Under a Harlequin Spotlight
by marisa lee
Summary: Buttercup's dream is to become a star on the stage. She's got what it takes—can she handle the consequences of earning her desires? To make her dream come true she must follow her heart... but will she learn to accept it? *OFF* HIATUS.
1. Mic's Karaoke Bar

**Title: Under a Harlequin Spotlight**

**Chapter One: Mic's Karaoke Bar**

**Pairing(s): none for this chapter.**

**Rating: T, because I said so.**

**Disclaimer: The only thing I own is the shirt on my back.**

**Summary: The truth to one's past might be the key to their future...**

**A/N: Do people even read the Author's Note?**

**~ 8/6/12 EDIT: I went back and made the first two chapters a bit longer and more interesting. Also spell checked.**

**xoxo -ml**

* * *

**Chapter One - Mic's Karaoke Bar**

"_If I could find you now, things would get better. We could leave this town and run forever..._"

"Buttercup!"

Buttercup Utonium rolled her lime green eyes at herself in the bathroom mirror and ignored her older sister's cry. She had been attempting to style her short, jet black hair, trying and failing to find a suitable use for it other than lying on her head like a limp raccoon, when out of grueling habit she had started to sing to herself. She couldn't help it, really. If there was one thing in the entire world she loved more than sleeping in, or fighting, or sneaking out to visit Lake Townsville in the middle of the night, she loved to sing.

"Let your waves crash down on me, and take-"

Unfortunately, her two sisters and her father seemed to find her singing annoying and incessant.

"Butter_CUP_!"

This time it was Bubbles' shrill voice that broke off her song.

"Sorry!" she called back with an exasperated tone. It wasn't really a lie. She was sorry... Sorry her sisters didn't appreciate her singing. It wasn't that she couldn't sing, it was just the fact that she never stopped doing it around the house. She sang more than she had ever spoken to her family in her life.

She sighed, deciding that her hair wasn't going to improve any, and opened the door, only to collide head-first into Bubbles.

"Buttercup!" her blonde-haired sister groaned, staggering backwards with the collision. "It's about time you got out of there! There are other people who have to use the toilet, too."

Buttercup barely nodded in response. She was always doing something wrong. Her sisters always found a way to blame everything on her. Always the victim. It was best to just let them have the upper hand. As long as she stayed out of their way, she was safe. All she had to do was blend in with the shadows; pretend like she wasn't even there. If she so much as stepped into the light, she was wrong. No matter what.

She stepped sideways out of her sister's way and made a beeline for her bedroom. Luckily she had been voted the odd one out when the three girls had grown too old for a playroom anymore and they turned it into another bedroom. And of course, Blossom and Bubbles pleaded with her to take the lone bedroom so the two of them could have their own space to share. But it didn't take much pleading. Buttercup was more than content with the solitude. Blossom and Bubbles had always been the most similar of the three, anyways. Buttercup was always different.

As soon as she entered her room, she flicked on her light switch and tapped a few buttons on her stereo system. Immediately, the song she had recently been singing blasted obnoxiously through the speakers and she smiled again at herself. The bass sent a pumping vibration underneath her feet, and the rest of her family could no doubt hear it downstairs. She knew it was only a matter of time before the Professor confiscated her stereo, too, but for the meantime, she enjoyed it while she could.

She hummed along to the song while she rummaged through her closet for something to wear. It was early one Saturday evening, and Buttercup was going to a bar.

Yes, so, she was seventeen and shouldn't be allowed at a bar, so what. It wasn't a real bar. It was a _karaoke_ bar. She worked there. Not behind the bar or anything, she wasn't that sneaky, but simply in the dining area. She washed dishes, bused tables, and took orders from the people who weren't trying to become so intoxicated they couldn't see straight. And that was just the way she liked it. The usual guests were usually show choir champions or Broadway-bound teenagers, and they never ceased to turn her green with envy (no pun intended). Sometimes, though, the bar was visited by families, couples, and mischievous men who were just looking for a hook-up. And boy, did they _look_. Buttercup tried to stay away from those derisive men as best she could, hiding out in the kitchen whenever a group of them would enter her area. But the drunk, obnoxious men were only one minor, unimportant flaw in the job. And that wasn't the part that was most exciting.

It was every other weekend or so that Buttercup was welcomed to entertain not only the guests but herself, as well. Once she stood up there on that stage, proposing her alias: "BC", and started to sing... It was like the entire world stopped. People from across the bar would swivel their chairs to have a look at the passionate girl onstage. People just leaving would stop dead in their tracks and wait for her to finish before reentering the club, hooting and howling for an encore. Even the owner of the club, a man by the name of Mr. Severini, would clap his large hands together and whistle between his teeth after she'd finished. Buttercup loved her job, and everyone loved her. She knew that this was her one step closer to fame, and each time she stood in that spotlight, she felt like an entirely new person. There was nothing that could make her feel better than standing up on that stage with the crowd cheering her name. She felt so good, so right, so at home...

She was daydreaming again. Unfortunately for her, it was a Friday night, and Friday was one of the most busy nights of the week. Mr. Severini only allowed her to go onstage if it was a slow night, in hopes of picking up business a bit. It usually helped, but on such a busy night, it wasn't very likely that she would get a chance.

Still, it was better to be prepared than regretful. She threw on a pair of black shorts and a white v-neck with lime green suspenders and matching green converse. She peered one last time into the mirror over her desk, and, giving up on her hair, turned off her favourite song and headed downstairs to the living room.

"Thank goodness," Blossom muttered as Buttercup passed her, laying on the couch with her nose buried in a book. "I thought you'd never turn that garbage off."

Again, Buttercup ignored her sister and continued into the kitchen, where she found the Professor sitting at the table with a bowl of cereal in one hand, his Blackberry in the other. Ever since the Professor's science corporation went viral, he'd made sure to own every sort of electronic known to man.

The two exchanged no words of acknowledgement as Buttercup reached into the cupboard for a granola bar, or anything to keep her going for the night. She loved food, but seeing as Bubbles was the only one in their house who could cook anything without burning the house down, and she was gone half the time nowadays, taking random trips with her friends and staying out late at parties, she didn't have much time for cooking —or eating in general— anymore. So Buttercup stuck with the S'mores Flavoured Chewy bar and shoved it into her mouth, whole.

As she munched, she hummed, and before she reached her favourite part in the song she was humming, the Professor put down his Blackberry and shot her a stern look. She pretended not to see him and belted out the last few words of the song, just to annoy him. Bubbles entered the kitchen, her hands over her ears and her mouth wide open.

"Would somebody shut her off?" she cried shrilly, forcing tears into her eyes. Blossom entered quickly behind her and threw a pillow towards Buttercup's face. She ducked just in time, the pillow flying over her head and landing harmlessly onto the floor, but it was too late. They had already ruined her big finish. She died down the last note and glared at her three haters.

Bubbles uncovered her ears and sighed. "Thank you," she scoffed, retrieving the pillow from behind her sister and softly smacking her with it as she walked by.

"No, thank _you_ for ruining my solo," Buttercup muttered.

"Trust me, you don't need our help for that," Blossom scoffed. Buttercup stuck her tongue out at her.

"Girls, please." The Professor raised an eyebrow with a bite of his cereal. Blossom stuck her nose in the air.

"Yes, _please_, Buttercup."

Bubbles cleared her throat softly. "At least lower the volume," she said nicely, trying not to hurt her feelings.

"To _mute_." Blossom added.

"You know we like your singing," Bubbles tried again. "Just... not in the house. All the time."

Blossom scoffed and waved her arm, snatching the pillow from Bubbles' hands. "Don't you have work or something?"

Buttercup grinned devilishly. "Just warming up," she replied with a nod. "Want to hear my favourite part?"

Blossom and Bubbles shook their heads frantically and screamed, "NO!" in unison.

The Professor raised an eyebrow with a bite of his cereal. "No, thank you, Buttercup," he said as politely as he could. "We don't want you to strain yourself." but she could tell he didn't want to hear it. And that was just fine with her.

She smirked and shrugged, grabbing another granola bar from off the shelf. "Eh, suit yourselves." She picked up her bag from the floor by the couch and with a wave of her hand, Buttercup flew out the door and towards the only place where she was accepted for who she was. And that place was Mic's Karaoke Bar.

* * *

"I think we should have it at the mall."

"Boomer, what kind of sane person has their birthday at the fucking _mall_?"

"Sorry Butch, just trying to help."

Brick shook his head and sighed. "No, it's gotta be someplace mature," he said with some thought. "I mean, we're gonna be eighteen. That's a huge step guys." his two brothers nodded in agreement. He scratched his head thoughtfully. "We could have it at a teen club..."

Boomer snorted and Butch shook his head. "Too many fourteen-year-old whores." Brick shrugged. He was right.

"I got it!" Butch chimed with a snap of his fingers. Brick and Boomer looked to him expectantly. "Why not have it at a bar?"

"What bar is gonna believe we're 21?" Brick asked with a sneer.

"Not like, a drinking bar," Butch said, rolling his eyes. "I mean like that new bar that opened up on Park Avenue last year. What's it called again?"

Boomer snapped his fingers. "It's called Mic's! Remember we robbed that place when we were little?"

Brick nodded. "Yeah," he said, remembering. "It used to be some liquor store or something."

"But what is it now?" Boomer asked, suddenly concerned. "Isn't it like a karaoke bar? Ain't those for sissies?"

Brick thought for a moment. "What do you mean, a 'karaoke bar'?" he wondered aloud.

"You know, karaoke," Butch said easily, rubbing the backs of his hands. "Like where people sing and shit."

"Fuck, I don't sing," Brick scoffed.

"You don't have to," Butch replied. "That's what other people go for. Well, that and the booze."

"Drunk people singing..." Boomer mumbled. "Sounds like fun."

"I guess," Brick agreed with a half-shrug.

Butch threw his arms out anxiously. "So? That a yes?" Boomer nodded, his hair falling slightly into his eyes. Brick just shrugged one of his shoulders, yawning.

"I don't see why not," said Boomer casually.

"Boom, get Mic's on the phone," Brick said with a grin.

Butch scoffed. "Why's he gotta call them for?"

Boomer nodded. "Yeah, why do I gotta call them for?"

"Shut up, Boomer," Butch said, smacking his brother in the face.

Brick rolled his eyes. "Don't you think we ought'a warn 'em before we make a grand entrance?"

Butch blinked. "No."

"Just call them," Brick barked.

Boomer jumped and pulled out his cell phone.

Brick grinned. "Looks like we're celebrating our birthday at Mic's Karaoke Bar."

* * *

_Every review will help donate one iguana to hungry children in Africa._


	2. Work and Liam Handson

**Title: Under a Harlequin Spotlight**

**Chapter Two: Work and Liam Handson**

**Pairing(s): Buttercup and... uh... her unrequited love? xD**

**Rating: T, because I said so.**

**Disclaimer: The only thing I own is the shirt on my back.**

**Summary: The truth to one's past might be the key to their future...**

**A/N: Do people even read the Author's Note?**

**~8/6/12 EDIT: Changed some things. Nothing really important. Just details. Carry on as usual.**

**I've donated 9 iguanas to starving African children for you. In case you're all still wondering, I AM still doing the contest. And so far, I've gotten a total of five entries. Not bad, but I would certainly love more. Take your time, but remember, you've only got until the fifteenth! I also forgot to mention before, I'm completely disregarding a few things that are set in the show originally. For example, the Girls and the Boys have never met prior to this. And the Boys have actual parents... No monkeys. They still have powers, but they don't use them much as you'll be able to tell once the story really gets going. The fluffy stuff, unfortunately, won't really pick up until later on... sorry about that u.u but you'll see it's well worth the wait!**

**xoxo -ml**

* * *

**Chapter Two - Work and Liam Handson**

Park Avenue was Townsville's main road for going to and from town. It was a two-way, narrow road that stretched the entire length of downtown Townsville, eventually leaving the small city and morphing into a full-fledged highway.

This small street was Townsville's centre of action. There was the grocery store, the mall, the movie theatre, the country club, and the bookstore. There was also the pet store, the teen club for under 18, the art shop, the gym, and much, much more.

One of those buildings was the famous Mic's Karaoke Bar. The small corner building was lit up from the inside and music blasted through the large front window, echoing down the alleyways and throughout the narrow street. It was twilight, just barely light out anymore, as Buttercup made her way down the sidewalk. She lived in the suburban part of Townsville, and it was merely a few blocks away from the city. Sure, she could drive, she'd gotten her license nearly a year before. But it was pointless and a waste of precious gas to drive herself anywhere within a one-mile radius of her house, not including school. Besides, with only one car to divide between three sisters and a professor, she wasn't really in the mood for a quarrel. She could always fly, of course, but today it was unusually hot and muggy, and she figured that being up high in the clouds wouldn't exactly contribute well with that assessment. She simply shoved her headphones in her ears and power-walked the whole fifteen minutes of travel.

When at last she approached the corner building, she sighed contentedly and swung open the front door.

Mic's Karaoke Bar was one of the best hangouts in Townsville. On the outside, it was just a beat up old brick building with a flashing fluorescent neon sign that read "Mic's Karaoke Bar" and had a picture of a microphone with the wire coiled around it. But on the inside, it was full of flashing neons and comfortable spots; with dancing lights and thumping bass.

Along the front wall, where the wide front window was blocked out by a huge black curtain, there was a long black couch with small tables set up on either side and in front of it. Along the left wall was the bar, with various types of liquor behind the counter with neon barstools that changed colour according to the beat of the current music. Buttercup wasn't allowed behind the bar, but she dreamed of the day that she would be. Only four more years and it would be legal.

Along the opposite wall and cut into another adjacent room was the dining area, where families and groups of friends came to enjoy a meal or snack. This was Buttercup's main area, where she served the food and took orders, carrying dishes to and from the tables and back into the kitchen. It wasn't her favourite part of the job, but at least it was tolerable and it came with a plus side.

For against the back wall, there was a large, elevated stage with a few small tables and chairs set up in front of it. Onstage was a small karaoke machine with a rather large screen, a few amps and a drum set for when the bands appeared, and three microphones centered downstage, right where the singer would stand to show off his or her talent (or in some cases, lack thereof).

Buttercup sighed at the sight and smell of the old familiar place, the bell on the door ringing lightly as she walked inside.

"Hey BC!" several voices shouted as soon as she entered. She almost -almost- smiled but waved back at the people who'd greeted her. The bar was open from 11 am, but the karaoke didn't start until seven. Glancing at the large, neon analog clock that hung on the far wall before the dining area, Buttercup concluded that there were still fifteen minutes until the singing started. Her heart involuntarily leapt in her chest when she saw that there wasn't such a large crowd tonight. There were a few regulars sitting at the bar, and a couple families sitting and eating dinner in the dining area. But it was still early.

She made her way towards the kitchen and threw her bag down in the employee lounge. She punched her card in and snatched her black waitressing apron from the rack by the cards. She tied it carefully around her waist as the door swung open behind her.

"Hey, BC!" another voice called as her back was turned. Buttercup whirled around to face a tall, muscular and handsomely dark African American boy with piercing blue eyes.

"Hey, Liam!" she greeted him. Liam Handson was one of her best —and right forth, only— friends. He had a diamond stud in one ear and was wearing a black polo shirt with the Mic's Karaoke Bar logo printed on the front and back. He wore black jeans and black Jordans on his feet. A little black book was in his hand and Buttercup recognized it immediately as his songbook.

"What are you working on?" she asked, gesturing to the songbook in his arms. Liam was an aspiring guitarist, and he and Buttercup had often discussed forming a band, if they could only find a decent drummer and bassist. He wrote all of his own songs, and could often be seen jotting down lyrics, poems, or music pretty much anywhere he went.

Liam smiled, bright pearly teeth glistening out between his dark lips. "Oh, nothing new," he said, slightly discouraged. "You know it's the same old, same old." he began to hum one of his own personally written tunes, serenading Buttercup.

"_Only you and me in this crazy town, take my hand, we're going down_/"

Buttercup rolled her eyes as Liam took her by the hand and spun her around, doing a little dance in the middle of the lounge as he sang.

"It's really coming along great," she told him truthfully. "I can't wait to hear the finished version. You promise me a signed album when you're famous?" she winked and he laughed.

"Sure, anything for you, BC."

The two made their way out of the lounge and out into the dining area. Liam was nineteen, not quite old enough to work behind the bar yet, but as soon as they walked into the dining area Mr. Severini motioned them over to the bar with one hand.

"What's up, Mr. Sev?" Liam asked casually as they approached the edge of the bar.

Mr. Severini was an extremely laid back, casual type of guy. He was about fifty-seven years old and had a voice louder than a bullhorn. He could be scary when he needed to be, which wasn't often. He had large, gaping brown eyes and high wrinkled cheekbones which framed a permanent, pearly smile. His grey hair was thinning and stringy on the top of his head, but it was usually covered with some sort of sports team hat or cap. Today, his navy blue cap had the famous New York Yankees symbol printed on it, and he was sporting the same dark polo as Liam, which had the bar's logo printed on both sides. He was a joking, carefree old man who greatly enjoyed young people. So it was needless to say that Liam and Buttercup were two of his favourite workers.

"Hey kids," Mr. Severini said cheerfully, clapping a meaty hand onto Liam's back. "The crowd doesn't look too promising tonight, so if by eight thirty things haven't picked up, I want you two up there to steal the show." he winked in Buttercup's direction. It took all of what little composure she had not to jump for joy.

"Sure thing, Mr. Severini!" the two teens said in unison.

They both raced back to the kitchen, excitedly clapping their hands as they went.

"I might get to play today!" Liam cried happily as they swung open the kitchen door.

"And I might get to sing!" Buttercup chimed. She picked up her tray and stole a glance towards the clock on the wall in the kitchen. It was five minutes to seven. She sighed and leaned back against the counter. Business in her part of the bar was pretty slow; there were only two families sitting in the dining area enjoying their dinners, and the other waitress on duty had already taken care of them. There wasn't much for Buttercup to do but sit and wait.

Before she and Liam had a chance to start up much of a conversation, the phone in the kitchen began to ring.

The two teens glanced towards it lazily, and when it continued to ring twice more, Buttercup scowled and forced herself to pick up the receiver.

"Mic's Karaoke Bar," she said professionally as an answer.

"Hi, um, I'm calling to tell you to expectant for us," a timid voice said on the other line.

Buttercup's eyebrows furrowed and she shifted her weight onto her other foot. "Excuse me?"

"Uh, we're coming to your bar." the caller's voice muffled out for a moment but then it filtered back in.

"Okay," Buttercup said monotonously. Stupid prank callers. "And?"

There were some faint, hostile sounding voices on the other line, then the caller came back on. "Do you know who we are?!"

Liam gave Buttercup a curious, questioning look, and she merely rolled her eyes in response. "Obviously not," she responded icily. "You called me."

Sniggers on the other line. A muffled cry. A different voice spoke threateningly to Buttercup. "Look lady," he snapped. "You obviously don't know who we are. So I'll give you a hint. We're three _very famous_ teenage boys who occasionally enjoy causing mischeif. We're coming to your bar tomorrow night to... erm... _celebrate_ our eighteenth birthday. So be ready for us."

Buttercup's eyebrows were no longer on her face. She was shooting Liam a look that said, 'What the hell?' and twirling the telephone cord around her fingers. Before she could say anything in response, however, yet _another _person came on the line.

"Oh yeah, and we want somebody else to do the singing. We don't do that sissy stuff. Just make sure there are plenty of drunk dudes to do it for us." Buttercup heard some laughter and she rolled her eyes. She'd had it up to here with this juvenile behaviour.

"Alright, look you stupid little bastards," Buttercup hissed quietly into the receiver, so only Liam could hear. "This is a fucking _karaoke _bar. You come to sing karaoke and eat food. If you don't want to sing, then don't come here. It's that fucking simple."

Liam covered his mouth with his hand to hide his obvious entertainment in the call.

There were some shuffling sounds over the phone and the second voice came on again.

"Yeah, okay, look," the voice said rudely. Buttercup could practically hear the laughter behind his voice. "All we want to do is have our birthday in a mature establishment and laugh at a couple of drunk bozos trying to sing. That too much to ask?"

Buttercup scowled deeper. "You're messing with the wrong girl here, buddy..." she growled.

"Great, so, we'll see you tomorrow night!" the caller smirked. And with that, the line went dead.

"Augh!" Buttercup cried as she slammed the phone violently down on its receiver. "I'm so done taking phone calls from now on!"

"What was that all about?" Liam asked laughingly.

Buttercup stuck out her tongue and made a disgusted face. "Some stupid teenagers making a freaking prank call."

"What'd they say?"

She rolled her eyes and went back to leaning on the counter. "They're 'alerting us of their presence' tomorrow night, or something. Load of bullshit."

"Were they guys?"

"Barely."

He nodded slowly. "I see, I see..." he pretended to scratch his chin thoughtfully. "Tomorrow night, eh?" he added with a grin. "Maybe you'll get yourself a boy toy." he winked at Buttercup and nudged her arm with his elbow.

She rolled her eyes. "Maybe _you_'ll find _your_self a boy toy," she retorted, sneaking out from behind him and over to the pop machine. She grabbed a glass and some ice, pouring herself some Moutain Dew and taking a long gulp of it.

Liam scoffed. "Psh, you know those boys are too immature for me," he said playfully.

Buttercup followed the rim of her glass with her tongue. "Those guys were too immature for a _five_ year old," she replied.

"They were probably just messing around!" he retorted with that same pouting face.

"Just face it, Liam," Buttercup said, shaking her head in sympathy for her friend. "There are no decent men in the world."

Liam just stuck his tongue out at her and turned away to pour himself some lemonade. As he did so, Buttercup watched with great interest. Liam was her best friend. They had known each other ever since she'd started her job at the bar, nearly a year prior. For the longest while, it seemed, Buttercup couldn't keep her eyes off Liam Handson. He was tall, good looking, hilarious, and incredibly sweet. He had been the first guy Buttercup had ever truly liked. The only problem was, she had to find out the hard way that he wasn't interested in her at all...

The two friends had been hanging out at the mall, as they often did when they both had work off. They were sitting at the usual corner café sipping on lattes and most importantly, people-watching. Buttercup had great fun pointing out the interesting mall-goers to her friend and he enjoyed watching them just as much as she did. The more Buttercup hung out with Liam, the more it began to feel like she was hanging out with another girl. It wasn't like he was the feminine sort. That wasn't the case at all. He was actually one of the most masculine people she had ever known. He had that sort of air about him. Like she could tell him anything; talk to him about anything in the world, and he wouldn't judge her. And she liked the feeling. So it wasn't quite out of the ordinary when Buttercup made a note about a particularly attractive male shopper without thinking and he laughed.

After making the comment, Buttercup had blinked and shook her head quickly, a bit embarrassed at the slip-up shed made. But Liam simply laughed and waved off her embarrassment.

"It's alright," he said casually with a sip of his latte. "I think he's hot too."

Buttercup was slightly taken aback. She wasn't sure if he had been kidding or completely serious. Sometimes it was like that with Liam. But she didn't have much time to wonder before her friend spoke again.

"Yes, BC, I'm gay."

He said it with great ease, as if discussing the weather or a baseball game. She wasn't offended, or anything, just... utterly surprised. The thought of her best friend being gay had never even crossed her mind. Not ever.

Still, her heart was ripped completely out of her chest. She had thought the two of them had shared something special, something unique... But no. It hadn't been real. It was just a friendship... An overly close, extremely misleading... friendship!

Although that day Buttercup had told Liam she still accepted him for who he was (and she did, of course. She had nothing against gay people at all), she was genuinely heartbroken. She remembered she had rushed home that night, confused and hurt at her recent discovery.

At first, she had been angry. How could he not have told her before? How could he have let her fall for him like that and then... It was too much. After a while, she got over it. Slowly and surely, she realized that she loved being best friends with Liam just like she would have enjoyed it if he were her boyfriend.

But ever since then, she had tried to stay away from men altogether. She simply couldn't trust them not to break her heart. She decided that as long as she and Liam stayed friends, she didn't really need a man in her life. She was quite content living the way she always had, and it was just enough for her.

Liam may joke about finding her a 'boy toy' as he put it, but Buttercup's heart was protected by a wall of steel that was impenetrable for any man. Well, almost any man.

* * *

_Every review for this chapter will donate ten thousand magic markers to needy, colourless children in Iceland._


	3. What if I Want to be an Old Cat Lady?

**Title: Under a Harlequin Spotlight**

**Chapter Three: What if I Want to be an Old Cat Lady?**

**Pairing(s): none for this chapter. (but next chapter... be ready.;)**

**Rating: T, because I said so.**

**Disclaimer: The only thing I own is the shirt on my back.**

**Summary: The truth to one's past might be the key to their future...**

**A/N: Does anyone actually read Author's Notes? :z**

**So, I went back and re-wrote the first two chapters. If you've already read them, it's recommended that you go and read the changes, but it didn't really change that much so you don't have to if you don't want to. Please enjoy, my lovely readers!**

**xoxo ~ml**

* * *

**Chapter Three - What If I Want to be an Old Cat Lady?**

"So I hear you've decided where you're celebrating your birthday tonight."

The deep voice cut briskly into Butch and Brick's poker game.

Brick looked up to meet the dark black eyes of his father. "Yeah, we're doing it at some karaoke bar on Park Ave."

Their father nodded thoughtfully to himself, scratching his chin. He was a rather good-looking man. His devilishly handsome looks had gone to all of his sons, but to Boomer, in particular. Their father was tall and slender, but with muscular arms and a hard, built chest. These traits Butch had inherited. He also had a crafty mind and a tricky smirk, which was shared by his son Brick. All three of the boys greatly resembled their father and always looked up to him.

He scratched his unshaven chin now, deep in thought.

"Yeah," Butch scoffed, jabbing a thumb towards Brick. "Ginger genius over here had the idea to call ahead and schedule us."

Their father's eyebrows wrinkled on his previously creaseless forehead. "Why?"

Butch just sniggered, and Brick narrowed his eyes and straightened the red cap on his head.

"Bec_ause_," he said heavily, "We want everyone to know of our presence in that bar."

Butch rolled his eyes and faced his father again. "But he failed to mention _exactly _who we are over the phone."

Brick's face flushed a deep scarlet and he punched his brother in the arm. Butch pretended not to feel it and shrugged in response to their father's questioning look.

"I easily could've rented the place out for you, you know," their father said, patting his breast pocket which held his fattened wallet. "You and a few hundred friends..."

Brick and Butch both stared at the man before them.

"What sort of friends do you think we have?" Brick scoffed.

Butch let out a sharp breath and placed a card down on the table, indicating his turn.

"Well, you know," their father said uncomfortably, shifting his weight onto his other foot. He jingled some change in his pants pocket with his hand. "You've got guys from your teams. And those girls from the company..."

Brick shrugged one of his shoulders. "Just 'cuz we're on a team doesn't mean we're friends."

"I've already invited Becky," Butch added half-heartedly.

"And Boomer'n me'll probably pick up two of the company girls' hot daughters."

Their father sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "You know, I really wish you boys liked hanging out with other guys like Boomer."

Brick and Butch shared a combined noise that was somewhere in between a smirk and a scoff. They said nothing.

"Speaking of Boomer," he said curiously, "Where is he?"

"He said he had a 'surprise' for us for our birthday," Brick replied, rolling his eyes.

"It's probably another pair of matching embroidered sweaters," Butch mocked, laughing.

"Or teddy bears," Brick smirked. The two laughed and their father nodded distractedly.

"Right, well, I've got loads of work to do before tonight. I'll be in my office if you need me." And with a turn of his heel, he was gone.

His two sons rolled their eyes. Their father was a high-class, famous record company owner. He was often thinking of new ways to discover the 'next big IT person' in the world. They knew he was considering accompanying them to the bar later that night in search for Townsville's 'next big IT'. So far in his search, he had come up quite short. He'd found a man who could yodel (not quite the best bet for a company that produces records); a young woman who could sing quite well, but before she went into the recording studio after signing a deal with him she panicked and backed out; and a _very_ young talented girl who hadn't quite begun kindergarten yet ("Call us back in ten years if she can still sing," he'd told the girl's parents). So no, he hadn't been very lucky.

Perhaps tonight was the night. Perhaps he would finally find someone worthy of such a famous career track. Perhaps...

"Dad's coming with us to the bar?" Brick said, placing his next card down on the table.

Butch didn't meet his eyes, picking up a card from the stack and shrugging. "Who cares? It's not like I'm gonna do anything stupid."

Brick's blood red eyes studied his brother's face for a moment. "Yeah, you and Becky _never_ do _anything_ bad." he winked exaggeratedly.

Butch ignored this comment and crossed his legs over so he was sitting with them straight out in front of him. Brick kicked his shoe absently as he made his next move.

"You know Dad won't even be paying any attention to you," Butch pointed out. "He's only got eyes for the stage performers."

Brick whistled low in agreement before yawning widely, granting Butch full view of the very bottom of his throat. Butch casually flipped one of his cards in direction of his brother's gaping mouth, the card landing squarely on his tongue causing him to gag.

"Fuck you," Brick choked, spitting out the card and throwing his own hand down on the table.

"I won anyways." Butch shrugged.

Before Brick could argue this fact, a small sound came from the other side of the sitting room double-doors.

"Guys!" Boomer's muffled voice called through the doors. "Look what I got!"

He kicked one door open carefully, balancing in his slender arms bottle upon bottle of expensive liquor.

Endless fun. Endless beer, wine coolers, vodka, scotch, rum, and gin even. Endless fun.

"Where the hell did you get all this shit?" Butch asked his brother, bewildered.

Boomer just beamed. He set the lot down on top of his brothers' abandoned card game on the coffee table and flexes his flimsy arms out. His bright blue eyes darted excitedly to the door and he rushed to shut it behind him.

"All you need to know," he said quietly, "is that you better not let anybody catch you with it. And if Dad asks, it was Mum who cleaned out the liquor cabinet."

Brick and Butch grinned slyly at each other.

"Wow," Brick said, "Boomer, this may have just promoted you to my second favourite brother."

Boomer's grin widened to about a million watts and although Butch looked confused for a moment, he shook his head and picked up three bottles of beer. He popped the tops off expertly and handed one to each of his brothers, keeping one for himself.

"To eighteen," Butch said, raising his bottle in the air. His brothers clinked their bottles to his and repeated the toast, flipping the bottles bottoms-up in the air and drinking heartily. "To eighteen."

* * *

Buttercup kicked the table leg in the staff room angrily. Leo, the snooty assistant manager of the bar, had called an urgent Saturday afternoon meeting for the five under-21 workers who were employed at Mic's. It was about two o'clock, three hours into Buttercup's shift, when Leo broke the news.

"You're _what_?!"

Leo straightened his tie and cleared his throat. "We're cutting back on underage first-rate employee salaries."

"How can Mr. Severini do this to us?" Liam cried. "I've been working here for almost a year!"

"Yes, well," spluttered Leo. "Mr. Severini's health has taken a turn for the worse, I'm afraid, and he's placed the bar under new management for the time being."

"His health?" Buttercup repeated disbelievingly. "But we just saw him yesterday!"

"He's barely even fifty years old!" one of the other young waitresses chimed in.

Leo plastered a false grin onto his snobby face. "That doesn't mean he can't get sick," he said in a voice oozing fake concern. "And we are praying for his quick recovery, but for now, I'm in charge, and there are going to be a few changes around here. And if you don't like that idea, then I suggest you put in your two weeks' notice now and begin searching for another line of work." he stuck his pointed nose in the air and strutted out of the room with a huff.

Buttercup and Liam's expressions mirrored each others' as they glared at their new snooty head manager. How could he do this to them? Especially the two employees who basically kept the business running...

"This is a load of bullshit," Buttercup cried angrily, flipping herself into a chair behind the table she'd previously kicked.

"I know," a short, timid bus girl agreed sadly.

"Who the fuck does Leo think he is?" Liam scowled. "He can't just come in here and change around the entire business. It's bullshit!"

An agreeing murmur trickled through the rest of the young workers as Liam rammed his fist against the table.

"Damn Leo and his stiff upper lip," the oldest among them, a man of about twenty with a goatee and thick sideburns muttered. "He needs to get out more."

Buttercup lowered her forehead onto the table and groaned. She'd been working at Mic's for as long as it had been open, and she was basically famous around town for her beautiful voice and entertaining song at the bar. She was known as 'The Puff with the Voice', whereas her sisters went by different nicknames in the papers. Blossom was 'The Example and Brains' and Bubbles held her rep as the 'Joy and the Laughter'. Buttercup couldn't easily quit her job, but work at Mic's already paid little to nothing. She was barely getting by on minimum wage. The only real reason she stayed was because she loved it. The stage time, that is. Cleaning up after sloppy people with disgusting habits wasn't exactly a dream. But Leo, he cut back on employee funding? And she wouldn't be able to make full-wage until she was old enough to tend the bar... Yes, this was where she drew the line. She could quite possibly be making more money bagging groceries somewhere. Anywhere else would pay more than she was going to start making at the bar.

With a heavy sigh, Buttercup had to face the truth. It looked like she was going to have to start looking for somewhere else to work.

* * *

"Welcome to Mic's Karaoke Bar, what can I get you?"

Buttercup stood with her waitressing notepad on her hip and her pen in her mouth, as was per usual, looking absolutely bored with her life as she took an order from a small, fragile-looking old couple in the dining area.

"Yes," said the old man slowly. "I'll have a cup of decaf coffee."

"And I would like a glass of ice water, please," the old woman added. "With lemon."

Buttercup nodded, not bothering to jot down the simple orders, and floated back into the kitchen to fetch the drinks.

"How's it going?" Liam asked her when she entered. He was on his break, and the two of them were the only waitstaff on duty that night. Of course. Unluckily because, well, it was Saturday, and they were quite busy. Liam stood leaning against the counter, reading _Rock Music_ magazine and grazing on a bag of Cheetos.

Buttercup glared at him and snatched a glass from the stack by the pop machine, filling it with ice, water, and sticking a sliced lemon into the rim of the glass.

"Gee, I don't know, Liam," Buttercup said sarcastically as she worked. "It's only Saturday night and there are sixty-seven thousand people out there who want food. Doesn't help much that I'm the only one actually working!"

Liam chuckled and set down his magazine. "Hey, alright, fine," he said. "Don't get your panties in a wad, I was just ending my break now."

"I'll put your panties in a wad," she mumbled under her breath. He pretended not to hear the snide comment as she poured the old man's decaf and flew back out to the dining area, setting the drinks down on the table and taking the couple's meal order. After she'd scribbled it messily in her notebook, she flew back through the door to the kitchen, nearly colliding with Liam as she did.

"BC, look, hot guys at twelve o'clock!"

Buttercup wasn't the least bit interested, but she turned her head all the same and looked in the direction her friend was watching intently. "My twelve or yours?"

"Just look!" Liam nodded towards the entrance. Indeed, currently entering the bar were three very handsome boys with rather casual looks on their faces. Each, Liam noticed with a scowl, had a hot babe latched onto his elbow.

"None of those guys are your type," Buttercup said meaningfully to her friend, pushing past him back into the kitchen.

Liam stuck out his bottom lip and followed her back in, watching as she submitted the old couple's order to the cooks.

"So what? You could go for that!" he said excitedly. He nudged her with the tip of his elbow and she shoved him lightly.

"You saw those guys," she retorted. "They all had snobby looking whores on their arms."

"So?" Liam said. "Just because you've got a nice car doesn't mean you can't look at a Ferrari when it drives by." he winked at her and she furrowed her eyebrows.

"What the fuck are you talking about?" she asked him, pushing past again and heading out into the dining area. She stepped just to the side of the kitchen door and leaned against the wall, crossing her wrists behind her back. Liam literally twirled around her and mimicked her actions flanking her left.

"All I'm saying is," Liam started slowly, his eyes still on the man candy at front, "You better get yourself a good guy before you end up an old cat lady."

"What if I want to be an old cat lady?" Buttercup retorted. She watched as the three boys and their dates took a table in front of the stage.

Liam snorted. "You and I both know you don't want to be an old cat lady. You're allergic to cats!"

Buttercup scowled deeply.

"If you keep making that expression it'll stay that way," Liam said playfully.

"Good." she stuck her tongue out and crossed her eyes.

"At that rate, you'll end up alone for sure." he patted her on the shoulder and pushed off from the wall. He pecked her lightly on the forehead and went to ask a few tables if they needed refills, leaving the green PowerPuff alone with her thoughts.

Buttercup studied the three boys who had just entered. The tallest, sitting furthest from her on the left, was handsome, intelligent-looking, and redheaded. He had deep red eyes that burned like fire and long, shiny auburn hair that reached his mid-back. It was pulled into a low ponytail and tucked behind a red baseball cap, worn backwards on his head. He waved his arms in annoyed conversation at the other two, completely ignoring the girl at his side. He narrowed his eyes and fixed his gaze to the left for a second, and Buttercup quickly snatched the broom from the wall and pretended to be sweeping the floor in front of the kitchen. She felt his eyes on her as she stared at the ground_. He's nothing special,_ she thought to herself.

When she was sure he had looked away, she chanced a peek at the second boy. He was the shortest of the boys and he sat on the opposite end of the table from the redhead. Buttercup could only see one half of his face. He was pale, blonde and extremely handsome, his perfect features boyish, but sexy. His light yellow-blonde hair was quite long but swept back out of his bright blue eyes in a sort of wind-blown style and he was rather slim, but not too skinny. Buttercup could almost taste the drool in her mouth as she stared at him. Disgusted with herself, she shook her head frantically to rid her mind of all fantasies her brain had just come up with in that mere twenty seconds of staring intently at the blonde boy. _He's like a model,_ she thought glumly. _Definitely not my type_.

With a sigh, she finally laid eyes on the last and middle-height of the three. This one's face she could not see, because his back was to her in his chair. What she _could_ see of him, though, could only be cleanly described in one word: _muscle_. This guy had a whole ton of it. His arms were bulky, his shoulders broad, and his neck thick and strong-looking. And that tight forest green t-shirt he wore did nothing to conceal it. She wondered what it would feel like, to run her hands over his biceps; to trace his bare abdomen with her fingers... _Shake the thoughts, Buttercup, stop being such a creep_. She changed her concentration to study the back of his head. Jet black hair, spiked and softly styled, thickly covered the back his head like a deep black ocean. He turned his head ever so slightly as she watched, and caught half a glimpse of a single, piercing, emerald green eye. The sheer brightness of his eyes nearly caused her to drop the broom she still clutched in her palms. Before she had a chance to react to such a shock, however, he turned back around, granting her full view to his black sea of hair again.

She watched him hopefully for a few more minutes, almost mindfully willing him to turn around again so she could see his eyes, but he never did.

"That middle one's a hunk, huh?"

Liam's voice suddenly cut into her hearing and she poised for attack out of habit. He backed off with a laugh and took his place back by her side against the wall again.

"Hey, I saw you looking. You can't argue that he's hot." Liam grinned, watching her reaction out of the corner of his eye. "Those eyes are just _wow_. And he's got such a great body."

Of course Buttercup agreed with Liam. Hell, she more than agreed with him. She wanted to praise his words. He wasn't just model-like. There was a god in their midst. But she couldn't grant Liam the satisfaction of being right. She tried to fight the blush creeping up her neck but she couldn't help it. "They're all dicks," she mumbled, looking away from her friend so he wouldn't see her sudden change in complexion.

Too late.

"Is that a blush I see?" Liam said curiously, leaning closer to her.

"Fuck no," Buttercup snapped, rubbing her cheeks frantically. "I think it might be an allergic reaction to all the sudden stupidity in here."

Liam grinned slyly at her. "You think the black haired one is hot, don't you?"

Buttercup scowled. "No fucking way, Liam!" she snapped, punching him not-so-lightly in the arm.

"Hey, no need for violence and crude language here!" Liam said defensively, rubbing his arm. Buttercup's fists remained clenched as she glared at him. He started in on her again after a moment's silence. "You have to admit he's hot, come on, BC!"

Buttercup rolled her eyes. If it would get him to leave her alone... "Alright, fine, he's hot, okay... A little."

Liam beamed smugly and fixed his gaze on the dark-haired boy again. "Mhmm! What I wouldn't give for a guy like that..." he licked his lips sensually, sending another blush trickling up Buttercup's cheeks.

"Ugh, you're disgusting, shut up already," Buttercup said, whirling around towards the door and heading back into the kitchen. Liam was close to follow.

"Maybe you should serenade him!" he cried excitedly. "Then he'll for sure dump that girl and go straight for you."

Buttercup rolled her eyes and filled a glass with ice water. "Why don't _you _serenade him?" she retorted. "Then maybe he'll magically realize he likes men and chase after you."

Liam threw on that pouty face again. "It could happen!"

But Buttercup ignored him again. She carried the ice water out to a table with a crying baby and a helpless-looking mother. The mother thanked her sweetly and went back to trying to hush the baby.

"Come on, BC!" Liam begged again when she reentered the kitchen. "What've you got to lose?"

"My sanity," she quipped. She snatched a dishrag from the hook over the sink and started wiping down the countertop for the sake of something to busy her hands with so she didn't smack Liam.

"You never take chances!" he moaned, distressed. "This could be good for you! All you have to do is give it a try! You never know what'll happen!"

Buttercup turned to face him fully now. "Liam, I'm not the kind of girl to care about guys, you know that. I fight and I sing. That's it. I don't even fucking like men... _Not _that I like girls!" she exclaimed at Liam's incredulous expression. "But guys are all stupid assholes who like to keep secrets from you and break your fucking heart. Besides, we probably won't even be going onstage tonight. The place is packed."

As if on cue, the door to the kitchen burst open, and a young bar hand threw himself through it.

"BC, you're wanted onstage."

Liam raised a smug eyebrow at Buttercup, who sighed heavily.

"Alright, give me ten," she responded, defeated. She slapped the towel down on the counter and stuck her bottom lip out.

Liam grinned from ear to ear and went to fetch his guitar from the lounge.

"Just be yourself, BC," he told her. "And come out of that shell. Opportunity is endless when you're not pretending to be someone you're not."

* * *

_Every time you leave a review, an angel gets its wings._


	4. The Singing Girl

**Title: Under a Harlequin Spotlight**

**Chapter Four: The Singing Girl**

**Pairing(s): Buttercup x Butch (finally!)**

**Rating: T, because oh look the t's are hands: t-.-t problem?**

**Disclaimer: I own Liam Handson. Also the song is 'Born For This' by Paramore c:**

**Summary: The truth to one's past might be the key to their future...**

**A/N: I'm actually really surprised and flattered that you all like Liam so much. I wasn't expecting such a positive reaction! It makes me so happy. Thanks to all of you wonderful people, 10 angels got their wings! Thank you all so very much. I wasn't going to update until Friday, but you all encouraged me to do it sooner.**

**A special thanks to MindlessChey for admitting that you read my Author's Notes! c:**

**Please enjoy!**

**xoxo ~ml**

* * *

**Chapter Four - The Singing Girl**

Buttercup absently twisted the microphone wire around her fingers and adjusted her shirt. She was wearing a grey-and-white striped baby v-neck with a cut open back. She had on her favourite pair of skinny jeans—bright neon green with a pair of purple DC's on her feet. She fiddled with the band bracelets on her wrist as she paced back and forth behind the stage curtain.

"Nervous?" Liam asked her with a grin as he approached, plugging his electric guitar into the amplifier.

Buttercup made a face. "Me? Nervous? Liam, quit shitting."

"Well it might just be the fact that those hot guys are out there, watching your every move... listening to every note you sing..." he nudged her arm.

"Cut it out," she mumbled, pushing past him into the dim light and peeking through the curtain. She spotted the three boys and their dates through narrowed vision. The redheaded boy had his eyes glued to the stage, and would have been staring directly at her had he been able to see her. The blonde was focused on the drink in his hand, tracing the rim of the glass with his index finger. The middle one, the dark-haired boy, had his eyes on his date. But Buttercup could still see the brightness of those eyes. They were an electrifying green, and they eyed his date with such lust and concentration that Buttercup almost threw up. The boys each had a glass of soda in their hands, but judging by the way their eyes were fuzzy and their heads were swaying lazily on their necks, that's not all they'd had to drink that night.

"Ready?" Liam asked Buttercup, standing behind her with his guitar in his hand. Buttercup took a deep breath and nodded. "Remember," he added in a whisper, "Serenade him."

She rolled her eyes and they both pushed through the curtain, revealing themselves to the audience. A dull cheer rose through the people and Buttercup noticed that all three of the boys were eying her hungrily. She tried to pretend like she hadn't seen the eager looks in their eyes, but it was a bit difficult to do so.

"Hi everyone!" she greeted the 'audience'. As soon as she managed to tear her eyes from the three boys down in front to focus on the rest of the people around, her head felt lighter and her heartbeat slowed back to normal. "I'm BC, and this is my friend Liam"— she pointed to him, who was setting up his stool and microphone beside her— "and this song is for those who just want to rebel against 'The Man'."

Liam strummed the guitar loudly, earning a whoop from a few of his friends in the crowd. Buttercup allowed a wide grin to slowly tickle itself onto her lips. Her eyes scanned the crowd once again, taking great care not to notice the three drooling boys in the front, and started to sing.

* * *

"Whoa, who's _that_?!" Brick asked, eagerly eying the girl on stage with lust-filled red eyes.

His brothers fixed their drunken gazes on the stage, too, Boomer's eyes lighting up significantly as they rested upon the singer.

"Brick!" the redheaded boy's date scolded. Brick ignored her.

"She sure is hot," Boomer said with a low whistle.

"Boomer!" the blonde's date snapped.

"She's not your type, Boom," Brick laughed. "You're more into the goody two-shoes kinda chicks."

Boomer's brunette date glared at Brick. "If all you guys are going to do is drunkenly insult me, then I'm out of here," she snarled.

Boomer and Brick's eyes met each other's —barely— and they laughed.

"More fun for us then," Boomer said casually. He leaned back in his chair and took a sip of his soda. "Now I can talk about hot babes without you up my ass."

Brick laughed. Boomer's date huffed and threw herself away from the table, stalking off. Boomer barely noticed. He didn't even bother wondering how exactly it was she planned on getting home. He was too busy undressing Buttercup with his eyes. Brick was doing the same. Butch simply sat with a curious expression on his face. After he'd had his fill of watching the girl, he turned back to his date. His girlfriend Rebecca had been with him for almost six months and they were very much in love, it seemed. She smiled at him now, as he was taking great care pretending not to observe the beautiful girl onstage.

Brick wiped the drool off his chin and apologized to his date. He pecked her sensually on the lips, which ended up leading to a full-on make-out session.

"I wonder if they have nachos..." Boomer muttered distractedly, nearly tripping over his chair as he stood up and stumbled away in due course for the kitchen area.

Rebecca watched him leave with weighted gaze, and then said quickly, "I'm gonna use the bathroom." She stood up and followed in Boomer's footsteps, eventually making her way towards the ladies' room, leaving Butch helplessly alone with the two lip-locked teens. He figured now was as good a time as any to get a glimpse of the girl onstage before his girlfriend got back to scold him. He allowed his curious eyes to drunkenly travel up her body, starting with her long, slim legs, which were tightly compacted into a pair of sexy lime green skinny jeans. His eyes followed the jeans up for what felt like forever, until they reached her wide hips and small waist. Her breasts were full and barely exposed, a small dip in her neckline allowing the smallest bit of cleavage to peek out. At last, he admired her long, graceful neck, sweeping his gaze over her full lips and high cheekbones, and finally coming to rest on her bright, piercing green eyes. Like a forest of lime green trees, Butch thought numbly. The lime forest eyes met his for a split second, before the girl pressed her lips against the microphone and began to speak.

She introduced herself as 'BC', her stage name, no doubt, and her guitarist friend as Liam. Butch's eyes flitted quickly back to the bathroom door, doing a double take to be sure his girlfriend couldn't see him checking out this stage girl.

BC took a deep, exhilirating breath. Butch could almost feel it in his lungs. And then, she started to sing. Butch felt as though her words were directed straight at him, even though it seemed she was taking great care to avoid his eyes entirely. A few others in the audience cheered as she began to sing, the notes rolling off her tongue and sliding from her throat with such grace and beauty that Butch had no choice but to stare, his jaw falling slack and his eyes growing wide.

"_Oh no, I just keep on falling_," she sang.

"Back to the same old!" the few young people in the crowd were singing along with her, allowing her to lead them in as the young guitarist plucked the strings with ease.

Each time she inhaled deeply to begin the next verse, Butch noticed, BC would pull her short bangs behind her ear and close her eyes slightly.

_"It takes acquired minds, to taste, to taste, to taste this wine. You can't doubt it with your eyes..."_

Somewhere in the middle of the song, BC stepped back and allowed the young guitarist to strum a long note on his guitar before she started in to the second verse, the crowd bumping with adrenaline-laced excitement.

"_Everybody sing like it's the last song you will ever sing..."_

Liam went crazy on the guitar. This was obviously the musical interlude. Buttercup clapped her hand against the microphone and whooped along with the crowd for her friend, a huge, blindingly white smile plastered onto her face, nearly sending Butch into cardiac arrest. When the music came back in, she closed her eyes, pulled her hair behind her ear and took another breath.

Then, suddenly, BC's eyes met Butch's. She sang right to him, that same smile on her face directed straight at his every sense. A drop of sweat glinted on her forehead under the spotlight. She forced her raven hair behind her ear again. Butch found the simple action so innocent, yet so attractive. The way she lured the crowd in with her voice like an angel from heaven, the way she captured their enthusiasm and shot it back at them in full, rousing them into obnoxious, whooping animals...

"_We were born for this!"_

As she finished, she jerked the microphone in her fist into the air, dropping her head at the last second as Liam punched out the last note. The crowd burst into an unbelievably loud applause, and Butch even allowed himself to clap a few times for the mysteriously sexy girl onstage. Her voice was simply hypnotizing, her smile blinding and could easily kill.

He couldn't tear his eyes away from the gorgeous girl onstage, and he was so transfixed by her, his girlfriend nearly gave him a heart attack when she placed a soft hand on the back of his neck.

"Hey, babe, what'd I miss?" Rebecca asked him as she sat back down at the table.

_Everything_, he thought to himself.

"Uh, she just sang," he responded smoothly. She smiled and kissed him on the cheek lovingly. He hadn't taken his eyes off BC.

"Let's get out of here," she whispered in his ear as the singing girl waved, thanked the crowd and exited the stage.

His eyes followed BC until she was no longer visible, then he met the eager brown eyes of Rebecca. Her long brunette locks were tousled slightly and her cheeks were flushed. Something told him he should find this suspicious, but his alcohol-absorbed mind thought nothing of it and nodded emptily.

"But I wanna sing," a very drunk and swollen-lipped Brick mumbled into his date's mouth. She giggled and pulled him over to the desk to sign up for a spot.

Butch smirked. One of his brothers was probably pigging out in the diner, and the other was giving in to drunken impulse and signing up for karaoke. As much as hearing a drunk Brick embarrass himself on stage and/or seeing Boomer make a disgusting mess of the place inescapably tempted him, taking Rebecca home for some 'quality time' sounded perdurably better.

So he helped Rebecca up from the table and began to lead her towards the exit. On his way out, he spotted his dark-haired, coal-suited father sitting at the bar by himself, a heavy drink clenched in his fist.

"Dad, I'm taking Brick's car," Butch mumbled as he passed his father. "You can drive the morons home."

The man just nodded distractedly. Butch wasn't even sure his father heard him. His cell phone was adhered to his left ear, and he was shouting at someone on the other line. Butch didn't really care what his father was going on about now, but he did happen to catch a small snippet of the phone conversation as he held the door open for Rebecca.

"I don't care if you don't know who she is," his father screamed. "She's amazing, and I want her _now_!"

Butch instantly knew his father was referring to the beautiful girl who'd been singing onstage. BC, as she'd called herself. Butch led Rebecca out to the car. The three brothers had carpooled in Brick's black 2012 Lincoln MKT, and their father had driven separately. Leaving his brothers with their father was an ingenious idea on his part, he thought as he closed the door after his girlfriend and made his way over to the driver's side. He stuck the key into the ignition and sighed, slamming the door shut.

"D'you miss your bike?" Rebecca asked him quietly as they pulled carefully out of the parking lot. Butch tried to shake some of the alcohol from his vision as he made a wide turn onto the road, watching Rebecca out of the corner of his eye.

Butch hadn't had nearly as much to drink as his brothers to begin with, but he was still a tad bit buzzed. He knew he shouldn't be driving. But since when did Butch ever care about things he should and shouldn't do? And besides, letting Rebecca drive was not an option, he thought with a shudder.

"Yeah," he mumbled in response to her question. She reached over and placed a single hand on his thigh as he drove, and it consumed nearly all of his willpower to ignore it. She had been referring to his motorcycle, the bike Butch had gotten for his seventeenth birthday last year. He rode that thing endlessly, and treated it like it was his own child. He loved his motorcycle. But he couldn't exactly fit six people onto his bike, could he? So that night he grudgingly took his brother's Lincoln and padlocked his precious bike in the garage with sullen eyes.

They made it back to his home with little difficulty, Butch sliding into the driveway as carefully as he could without making Rebecca any more worried than she already was.

After frantically checking to make sure nobody had stolen his beloved bike from the garage, he led her into the gigantic house by his hand, not even bothering to take her upstairs to his room. He figured the sitting room couch would do just as much good considering they had the entire house to themselves. He lowered himself down on it and brought her hips close to him as she was still standing.

He began kissing her neck without a second thought. She grinned devilishly.

"Greedy, huh?" she asked playfully, rubbing her hands down his shoulders and sensually massaging his chest. He just nodded and brought her face down to his, meeting her lips hungrily.

He reached around her and pulled her shirt up over her head, barely breaking the kiss. She, in turn, lifted his shirt over his head. She began to unbutton his jeans, and he closed his eyes as she deepened the kiss.

But something was strange. Instead of fantasizing about his girlfriend's long, luscious brunette locks splayed around her face as he kissed her tan, toned skin, he saw a different figure. The pale, fragile skin of the singing girl at the bar under his hands and on his lips. He saw her piercing green eyes staring up at him, widely and expectantly as she gasped for air...

His eyes snapped open and he pulled, frightened, away from Rebecca.

"What is it, babe?" she asked him worriedly.

Butch shook his head. "N-Nothing..." he murmured, forcing the image of the singing girl out of his head and forcing his lips against his girlfriend's again.

She started to pull his jeans down slowly past his hips, and Butch tried as hard as he could to picture his girlfriend's deep, lustful brown eyes and ravishingly sexy body in front of him... But he couldn't do it. Again, he saw the short black locks of the singing girl, her pale, kissable skin; her lush, plump lips...

His eyes shot open and he pulled away from Rebecca again. She stared at him again, a bit irritated now.

"What?" she asked again, bringing her arms away from his jeans, which were hanging off of his hips, and folding them across her chest.

He lowered his gaze and sighed. "Sorry, Becky," he said softly. "I guess I'm just... I'm just tired, that's all."

She smiled sneakily and wrapped her arms around his neck. "You're never too tired for me, baby," she said seductively, planting hot, wet kisses on the nape of his neck.

He tried as hard as he could to think of her as sexy, to be aroused by her touch, but for some reason the only thing he could see in his mind was the bright, lime forest eyes of the singing girl. All he could hear in his head was her sharp, passionate words as she sang again, just for him... He shook his head and gently pushed Rebecca away. "You should go," he said dryly.

Although she was greatly confused and aggravated, she did as she was told, retrieving her shirt from the floor and stalking out the door without another word.

As soon as she'd left, Butch pulled his pants back up, sighed heavily and buried his face in his hands. No matter how hard he tried, he simply could not rid his mind of BC's enticing green eyes and her entrancing body. Her voice echoed in his head like a song stuck on repeat. It was driving him crazy.

Why was he suddenly fantasizing about this girl? He didn't even know her, for god's sake! She probably wasn't even thinking about him. They had locked eyes once, and once alone, and although her expression was full of passion and heat, he knew she probably looked at her entire audience like that. He was just a face in the crowd. She might've even been dating that Liam guy who accompanied her onstage. They looked to be pretty cozy. Did couples sometimes introduce each other as 'friends'? He couldn't remember ever saying something along those lines when he introduced Rebecca. But then again, he'd never really had to introduce her to anybody but his father. He found himself picturing his arm around BC's waist, introducing her to his brothers and father as his girlfriend. He couldn't help but wonder what she thought of him. If she thought of him at all, that is.

He forced the image out of his head and pounded his fist on his knee. He knew he shouldn't be having these thoughts. He _shouldn't_. But then again, since when did Butch care about what he should and shouldn't do?

* * *

Blossom watched over the top of the newspaper she'd been reading with curious eyes as her raven-haired sister whirled around the kitchen, tossing some cereal into a bowl and messily slopping some milk in after it. A splash of milk hit the floor and Buttercup stared indifferently at it. She thrust the milk back into the fridge without cleaning up her mess and dug a spoon out of the drawer.

Blossom raised an eyebrow. "Are you going to clean that up?" Buttercup flopped into the seat across from her at the table, pretending not to hear her. Or she would be pretending, had her earbuds not been blasting music so loud Blossom could hear it across the table. Before Buttercup had a chance to start wolfing down her cereal, Blossom reached across her bowl and yanked out her left earbud.

Buttercup jerked her head up, an angry look burning in her eyes. "What the fuck?" she cried, aiming to shove the earbud back in her ear. But her sister yanked out the other one, too.

"Don't talk like that," Blossom scolded, clenching her right earbud in her fist. She nodded towards the puddle of milk on the floor. "Clean up your spill."

Buttercup rolled her eyes and spooned some cereal into her mouth. "M'bey laer," she replied, spitting a little milk onto the table.

Blossom made a disgusted face. "Don't talk with your mouthful!" she exclaimed, swiping a napkin from the holder on the table and waving it over the splatters Buttercup had made.

Buttercup swallowed and stared at her sister. "All you ever do is nag," she pointed. Blossom crossed her arms.

"Says the girl who can't stop singing long enough to take a breath!" Blossom stood up, throwing out the soiled napkin and using a sheet of paper towel to sop up the milk on the floor.

"Whatever," Buttercup mumbled with a shrug, plugging her ears with the earbuds again.

Blossom stormed over to her sister and ripped the buds out of her ears again. Buttercup's hands flew to her right ear, where the bud had clearly caused her pain.

"Hey!" she cried, "Be gentle, those are my listening ears!"

Blossom scoffed. "Obviously you don't use them well enough."

Buttercup just stuck her tongue out at her sister and spooned some more cereal into her mouth. Blossom narrowed her eyes and sat back down across from her, going back to reading her paper.

It wasn't long before Buttercup started humming to herself. At first, it was quiet, barely audible to Blossom above the sound of her own breathing, but after a while it slowly grew louder and louder, until it was so loud, Blossom had to set down her paper and glared at her sister. Buttercup pretended not to notice and slurped the last of the milk out of the bottom of her cereal bowl. Blossom knew it wouldn't do her any good to just ask her sister to stop humming, so she decided to try and avert her attention for as long as she possibly could.

"What's got you in such a mood?" Blossom asked curiously. Buttercup peered at her over the rim of her bowl and raised a single dark eyebrow.

"Whaddaya mean?"

Blossom sighed. "You've been exceptionally cheery ever since you got home from work last night. Singing more than usual."

Buttercup nodded slowly as if processing her sister's words, and lowered her bowl carefully, the spoon clanging to the table. She shrugged a shoulder.

"Is it Liam again?"

Buttercup sneered. "Not this time," she admitted, moving to place her bowl in the sink. "I've pretty much given up on getting him to go straight for me."

Blossom half-smiled. She still found it funny that her sister had a huge crush on a gay boy. "Then who is it? Another guy at the bar?"

"What makes you think it's a guy?" her sister asked defensively, throwing her hands on her hips and making a face.

Blossom simply shrugged. It was always so fun messing with Buttercup about boys. She'd never had a real boyfriend before, unless you counted Mitch Mitchelson, who she'd dated for a total of about three weeks in the ninth grade. The relationship had completely ruined their friendship and they hadn't spoken since their breakup. It didn't appear that the failed relationship had bothered Buttercup very much, but sometimes Blossom could hear Buttercup whimpering his name in her sleep. That, along with Liam's name. She remembered how crushed Buttercup had been when she discovered that Liam was for the other team. Her heart was completely shattered to pieces, and Blossom seriously doubted if she'd ever love again. But it was always positive when she and Bubbles teased their sister about relationships and boys, because it gave them some insight into her mysterious love life, which she didn't dare talk about in front of them often.

"Well for your _information_," Buttercup snapped, "It's definitely not about _a__ny_one from the male species."

Blossom raised a single eyebrow. She knew Buttercup was lying. She might have lied quite a lot, but she really was terrible at it when she didn't try.

"So, it's got nothing to do with this, then?" She shoved the newspaper in Buttercup's face. She snatched it out of her hands, reading the headline for herself.

'_EX-CRIMINALS THE ROWDYRUFF BOYS MAKE SURPRISE APPEARANCE AT MIC'S KARAOKE BAR IN CELEBRATION OF THEIR EIGHTEENTH BIRTHDAY'_

The headliner practically screamed into Buttercup's ears and her face drained of all colour. A small, black-and-white photograph stared back at her, catching her attention and causing her to go even paler, if possible.

"Oh my god, it _was _them!" Buttercup whispered, a bewildered expression on her face. Blossom just smirked smugly. When Buttercup regained enough sense to tear her eyes away from the photograph and saw the look in Blossom's eyes, she cleared her throat and thrust the paper back at her. "I mean, no, I didn't even know about it!" she lied heavily.

Blossom rolled her eyes, folding the paper back up and placing it on the table. "You should just stop now," Blossom said with a smug voice. She eyed the article with the corner of her eye. "I love how it says 'ex-criminals'. As if they still aren't."

Buttercup folded her arms across her chest. "If looks could kill..." she mumbled under her breath. Blossom just raised her eyebrows at the comment, and Buttercup pretended to be swiping crumbs off the counter with the back of her hand.

"What was the redhead's name again?" Blossom asked absently.

"Brick." Buttercup replied without hesitation. She hastily added, "I actually skimmed the words."

Blossom smirked and began to read the article carefully, occasionally reading a few snippets aloud to Buttercup, who pretended not to be listening but was actually desperate to hear her say his name. She had to admit, she hadn't known it was them when she'd first seen the three boys enter the bar. She'd barely recognized them. Maybe it was just the fact that Liam was so keen on hooking her up, or her thoughts were clouded by the sheer sexiness of _him_... No. No, no. She shook her head for what felt like the ninetieth time that day and averted her eyes so she could no longer see the article in Blossom's hands. She didn't care. Boys were no good, and if normal, _human_ boys could be as much trouble as Liam, then she was absolutely, _positively _sure that Butch would be ten million times as bad.

* * *

_This story is like a box of chocolates. You have to leave a review or else I will be sad_.


	5. No Use Crying Over Spilled Coffee

**Title: Under a Harlequin Spotlight**

**Chapter Five: No Use Crying Over Spilled Coffee**

**Pairing(s): Buttercup x Butch**

**Rating: T, because f*ck you I'm Spiderman**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing except for maybe possibly a box of Cheerios and Liam Handson.**

**Summary: The truth to one's past might be the key to their future...**

**A/N: Thanks to everyone who reviewed/favourited/followed! I really appreciate all the support and it encourages me to write more! :) A few people have asked if I'm going to include Reds and Blues in this story. I'm thinking I might not have anywhere to put them as far as my plot goes, but I may just end up sticking them in randomly somewhere. You'll have to wait and see!**

**In other news, my good friend and I have decided to write a sort of 'chain story', if you will, about the Reds. It's called Devilish games and it can be found on 3njoytheshow's profile. Please check it out, and feel free to leave a review if you like it :) Or, even if you don't like it, that's cool too. Okay, on with the story.  
**

**Follow me on Twitter! fallingstargirl !**

**IG my RP account! buttercup_ppg !**

**xoxo ~ml**

* * *

**Chapter Five - No Use Crying Over Spilled Coffee.**

Butch simply could not get the mysterious singing beauty out of his mind. Her green eyes penetrated his thoughts while he lie uncomfortably awake that night. She seemed familiar somehow, like he'd known her in another life. Of course, that was silly, but there was something about her that just seemed strikingly familiar to him. He didn't know much about what he was feeling about this girl, but what he _did_ know was that he had to see her again. And he was going to do it.

Over the course of the next few nights, he made countless random trips to the karaoke bar, utilizing the same excuse of 'I'm going to the gym' when his brothers became curious. He walked through the front doors, feeling misplaced and alien as he made his way towards the dining area. Each time it was the same. He kept his eyes open and his heart expectant for that beautiful, mysterious girl, but he never saw her. What if she wasn't coming back? What if he kept looking for her here at the times she wasn't working? He couldn't help but think to himself how absolutely ridiculous the whole fiasco was. He was by no means unhappy in his current relationship, but yet he found himself searching absently for a girl he didn't even know. It was crazy, and he was a dead man if Rebecca found out.

But he still felt like he had to find her. Just talk to her, just _once _to get her image out of his mind. He couldn't even kiss Rebecca without picturing BC's flawless form; without hearing her voice echo endlessly inside his head.

One night, about three nights after he'd initially heard her sing, he took a seat in the dining room area for what felt like the thousandth time.

_Okay, Butch,_ he told himself, easing himself into the seat and picking up the menu from the table. _If you don't see her this time, you have to forget all about her and never come back here_.

He nodded, determined. But then the very same voice that had been haunting his thoughts for the past three days entered his ears and ricocheted off the sides of his brain.

"Welcome to Mic's Karaoke Bar, what can I get you?"

The girl leaned casually over the empty chair across from him, chewing a pen and looking absolutely bored with her life. Her lime green eyes didn't meet his as he peered over the menu; instead, she stared past him distractedly.

He had to resist the urge to laugh. There she was, the girl he'd been looking for all this time, and she was acting so casual.

Butch slowly lowered the menu, taking in the mystic beauty before him. He eyed her shamelessly, studying and admiring her features carefully. She was wearing a tight lime green v-neck and short black shorts. She had on a pair of lime converses and long white knee socks with lime green bands on the tops. She had a black headband in her hair and a silver star pendant around her neck.

What the girl said next startled him.

"Are you going to order something or am I going to have to scrape your jaw off the floor?"

He blinked. She was sassy, and he liked it. He smirked at her, eying her long, exposed legs again and then trying to meet her eyes. But she still wouldn't look at him.

* * *

It took all of Buttercup's strength and willpower not to stare at Butch. She somehow knew _exactly_ what he was doing here, but she frantically wracked her brain for some other possible solution. He'd never been here before, then he started showing up after he'd watched her sing? All too suspicious behaviour for Buttercup's taste.

She shifted her weight onto her other foot. What nerve did this guy have, coming into a karaoke bar wearing only a forest green wife beater and a pair of camouflage pants? He was trying to stun her, that's what it was.

It took a lot of effort, but she could just barely see past his 'tough-guy' facade. She had to look pretty far, past all the flashy white teeth... the muscles... the ocean of soft, midnight black hair... the muscles... the... oh dear god, the _muscles_. She averted her eyes from him altogether, staring at her waitressing notebook and the very back of the menu in his hands. She could see past it. She had to. She knew he had a girlfriend. She considered bringing her up now, asking how she was doing, for conversations' sake. But then she remembered. She couldn't have a conversation. This was _Butch_ of the _RowdyRuff Boys_. She wasn't going to associate with him any more than was absolutely necessary.

When he didn't say anything for quite a while, she snuck a peek at his gaze. And she immediately regretted it. He was literally checking her out. He was _staring_, full on _lusting_ after her legs. She shifted her weight again uncomfortably and resisted the urge to sock him in the face.

"Are you going to order something, or am I going to have to scrape your jaw off the floor?"

His jaw clenched habitually and he narrowed his gaze. She made the mistake of meeting his eyes for one fleeting second. Even half-lidded, that deep green gaze bore into hers. An almost painful spark shot down her spine. She shuddered. He noticed. He was no good at all. Still. Something about that spark made her never want to look away.

He chuckled and leaned forward now, resting his elbows on the table. "You've got a lot of spice, girl," he said smoothly. Buttercup frowned deeper, breaking off the cap of her pen in her mouth. "Yeah, I'll have a cup of black coffee. Make it hot." he winked.

Buttercup barely nodded and stalked away without another word. She still felt his rustic green eyes boring into her back as she burst through the kitchen door. The absolute _nerve_ of that guy! Didn't he know who she was? Maybe he didn't recognize her. Maybe he just knew her from the other night... Maybe she ought to _remind_ him exactly _who_ she was with a few choice words and a trip down Pain Street...

Unfortunately, Liam wasn't working that day. Buttercup had no one but the other timid waitress to spill her feelings to. And she wasn't about to dump all of this on her back out of the blue. The poor girl would break.

Buttercup snatched a coffee cup from off the shelf and thrust it under the coffee maker. Maybe she should make it cold, just to spite him. Fill it with ice. Or 'accidentally' spill it all over him as she delivered it. The timid waitress watched her with wide, fearful eyes. It secretly made Buttercup feel a bit smug to know that the young girl was afraid of her. She enjoyed having that effect on people. It made her feel powerful; strong. But she hated when it was the other way around, like the way she was struggling not to feel around Butch. Why, she ought to just-

The young waitress hiccuped as she scuttled out of the kitchen, sending Buttercup's confidence through the roof. She bit back a grin as she removed the cup and huffed out of the kitchen. She slammed the coffee down in front of Butch carelessly, spilling a few drops in the process.

"Is there anything else I can get you, _sir_?" she said with great sarcasm.

The emerald-eyed boy grinned maliciously. "Actually, yes," he said. She tried as hard as she could not to roll her eyes up to the ceiling. She still didn't meet his eyes, though. And she didn't stare at his chest, either. Or his arms. Or his—

"Are you free later tonight?"

Buttercup blinked incredulously. She almost burst into laughter. He really didn't know who she was, did he? Despite herself, she met his eyes. They burned into his and she immediately regretted it. Was he joking? Did he seriously just ask her that question? She had a million and ten questions, but for once, she remained utterly speechless.

"I'll take that as a no," he said with a bit of a disappointed hint in his tone. he leaned back in his chair and took a sip of his coffee thoughtfully. "It's that guitarist, isn't it? You're going back to his place later tonight?" he winked at her. He _winked _at her. Buttercup was completely disgusted. She made a face that reflected her feelings, trying to decide if she should slap him or throw up all over the table.

Before she could do either, however, Leo called to her from the kitchen.

"Buttercup!" he squeaked, waving his arm, motioning for her to come. She narrowed her eyes and shot Butch the dirtiest look she could muster and flew back to the kitchen, knocking the table and spilling a bit of his coffee as she went. She'd barely caught his expression as she glared at him, but the look on his face puzzled her. His cheeks had drained of all colour and he was staring at her in complete and horrified shock. He didn't even budge as some of the hot coffee spilled into his lap. Maybe now he would leave her alone, she thought absently to herself. Maybe he and his eight tons of muscle would take a hike and never come back.

But still. He and his eight tons of muscle had flirted with her. He'd _flirted_ with her. _It was because he didn't realize who I was_, she told herself sharply as she did some stupid chore for her new 'boss'. _He didn't know it was me he was flirting with_.

_Still_! the other half of her brain retorted. _He flirted with _you! _And he came back to the bar just so he could see _you!

She scowled deeply on the outside, but her insides couldn't help but leap excitedly. It wasn't that it was out of the ordinary for a man to find her attractive. That wasn't it at all. It was just not very common that she came in contact with a man who she found attractive _felt the same way about her_. It was a dangerous pickle she was getting herself into, but she didn't care.

She watched with a sinking heart as Butch stood up from his seat, dropped some money on the table and stalked out of the bar without glancing back.

* * *

Buttercup. 'BC'. _Buttercup Utonium, of the PowerPuff Girls._

Butch smacked himself about twelve thousand times. How could he have been so naïve?! That was his ex-_archenemy_ he'd just flirted with! Ex-, nonetheless, but still! It wasn't right! What happened to her? Since when was she such a good singer? Who gave that no-good, sissy _PowerPuff_ permission to be drop-dead sexy? Butch felt sick to his stomach. He didn't like this feeling at all. He'd been fantasizing for three days about _Buttercup_. The more thought he put into it, the more he realized he shouldn't have been so idiotic. He should have known right away that it was her. She hadn't changed _that_ much!

Butch stopped in his tracks on his way to his bike. No. That was a lie, and he knew it. She'd changed _so_ much, in fact, that he hadn't even recognized her. Not even sober. Fuck. Fucking _fuck_, he was so stupid. He slammed his foot on the kickstand of his motorcycle, kicking it up and roaring the bike to life. He didn't have a helmet, because he was a superpowered teen. What good would 'protective headgear' do someone who was freaking _bulletproof_, for damn's sakes. He flew down the street on his motorcycle, his loosely styled hair flipping behind him and the wind whirring in his ears.

He still couldn't get her out of his head, but this time, it was for a different reason. He was trying to see the connection between that little, annoying, stupid, sissy, five-year-old _Puff_ and the girl he'd seen today... the sexy, flawless, sassy... _woman_. His thoughts suddenly took a different turn when he squealed past a billboard for lingerie. Try as he might, he couldn't get this newly formed —and he meant _formed_— Buttercup out of his mind. _Dammit_! he thought to himself, whipping into full gear on his bike, which nearly did a wheelie as it shot forward like a jungle cat. _Get her out of your fucking head! She is _beyond_ off-limits! You've got a girlfriend. Rebecca. Becky. Your love. Come on, think, Butch, fucking _think_!_

But his mind was caught in those green eyes and that sassy voice. "_Are you going to order something or am I going to have to scrape your jaw off the floor?_" Damn, why was she so perfect? Damn her. _Damn her_!

Butch pulled into the driveway in a blind rage. His beloved bike whirred to a stop as he ripped out the key and shoved it into his pocket. He stormed through the door and stomped into the kitchen, nearly tearing the refrigerator door off of its hinges as he opened it, snatched a 2-liter bottle of Pepsi from inside and downing the contents. What he really needed was some hard alcohol, but he wasn't stupid enough to down his father's scotch.

"What crawled up your ass and died?"

Butch nearly shot his brother with his eye-lasers, not noticing his silent presence in the kitchen until he'd spoken up. He whirled around to face Boomer, his eyes heating up threateningly. Boomer put his hands in the air defensively and backed away slightly.

"Chill out dude," he said almost laughingly, "I just wanna know what's up."

Butch lowered his gaze, his eyes coming to rest on his brother's sneakers.

"Nothing," he muttered, throwing himself into a chair at the kitchen table and taking another swig of the Pepsi in his hands.

"Where you been?"

"Gym."

"Funny joke, now where were you really?"

Butch shot him a death glare, and Boomer just shrugged. "You haven't touched your membership card in days," he pointed out. "It's still on the lanyard by the weight room."

Butch scowled. He knew Boomer was stupid, but never smart enough to realize the finer details.

"And don't say you were out with Rebecca, because she's been whining about you for the past three days," Boomer added truthfully.

He had a point. Ever since Butch'd sent his girlfriend home after their birthday, she'd been nonstop texting, calling and visiting him, and it was driving him up a wall. 'Did we break up?' she kept asking frantically, leaving him countless voicemails on his cell and even dropping by his house a few times. He'd told his brothers to tell her he was out, because he couldn't bear to see her at the time. The thought of looking her in the eye after what happened the other night still brought bile into his throat.

"You okay man?" Boomer asked again, scratching the back of his neck with a yawn. "Ever since we saw that babe at the bar you've been acting a little funny."

Boomer's words made Butch immediately snap. He thrust himself at his brother, grasping at his small throat and backing him against the wall. Boomer's eyes were wide with fear as Butch glared at him with lasers threatening in his pupils.

"Don't you _ever_ call that... that _bitch_ a 'babe,'" he hissed through gritted teeth. Boomer tried to nod but his head was pinned between Butch's meaty hand and the wall, leaving a small crater in the tile.

"O-Okay," Boomer choked. Butch released him and he fell to the floor, gasping for air. Butch scowled deeply and punched the crack Boomer's head had made in the wall. Stupid fucking idiot, calling one of the _PowerPuff Girls_ attractive. Even if it was true.

No, he corrected himself, no it wasn't. It was all a lie. She was trying to use her 'feminine parts' to leer them in, to destroy them completely. It wasn't fair. Buttercup had looked at him so differently the other night, when she'd sang... She hadn't given him any sign that she recognized him at all. She looked into his eyes with such passion, such heat... He'd melted. It was all part of her sinister plan. She was going to destroy him, and it was all credit to her eyes. Her piercingly green eyes, her lush, kissable lips, her long, sexy legs...

Butch shuddered. He opened his eyes —when had he closed them?— and looked around the room. Boomer was nowhere in sight. He turned on his superhearing and just caught a snippet of his brother whining to Brick ("He just had a spazz attack, that's what it was! He nearly choked me to death! Fucking psycho"). Butch grinned widely in spite of himself. He could scare his stupid baby of a brother so easily. He could whisper 'Boo' in his ear and Boomer'd wet himself. But he couldn't help but wonder with the very, very back of his mind if his brother had been right. Was he a psycho for freaking out on him? Did he even really care?

He thought about what his father would say in this situation. He could just see it now. "Dad, I think I might all of a sudden be in love with a PowerPuff Girl..." His brothers would laugh their stupid little asses off, and his father—

His father. The bar. His contract... _Shit_. He kicked the wall, creating another dent in the tile. Their father had been talking about signing that girl... That girl who was _Buttercup_. The _PowerPuff_ _Girl_. Fuck. Fucking fuck, fuck. He smashed his head against the wall a couple more times until he literally felt it collapsing beneath him. He had to stop his father from signing her. He _had_ to.

* * *

"Dad, seriously, she wasn't even that good!" Butch lied, trailing behind his father as he made his way around the office, sorting a few papers and retrieving a folder from a filing cabinet in the corner. He sat back down at his desk and began typing frantically on his computer keyboard.

"Nonsense, son, she was bloody brilliant." His father didn't even look at him as he flipped through the papers in his lap.

"But Dad," Butch whined. "She's way too young to be signed! Probably younger than me!"

"The youngest contestant on _Idol_ was sixteen, Butch," his father said distractedly. "I don't think I'll be stretching it that far."

"You don't understand!" Butch clenched his fists at his sides and resisted the urge to pulverize his father's computer screen. "She's not star material. She'd never make it in the _real world_!"

His father scoffed. "Oh, what do you know about the real world?" he said. "You haven't worked a day in your life."

This was true.

However, Butch was not in the mood to talk about his own personal career. He couldn't allow his father to sign a _PowerPuff_ _Girl_. He hadn't planned on telling him, but his father left him no choice. Butch took a deep breath, and muttered through clenched teeth, "No, I mean you really _don't understand_."

This caught his father's attention. He met Butch's eyes and he raised an eyebrow. "What? D'you date her?"

Butch's blood rushed into his ears and he almost punched his father.

"_Fuck_ no," he hissed. His father narrowed his eyes at his son's crude language but said nothing. He was usually pretty lenient as far as obscenities went. "She's a goddamn _PowerPuff Girl_!"

His father's eyebrows shot into his hairline. "So she's already famous?"

"Yeah, I guess, but that's not the poin—"

"Excellent, she'll fit right in with the company!"

A dark shadow crossed over Butch's eyes. His father could be so... so _Boomer-like_ sometimes.

"Dad, she'll destroy us!"

"Don't be such a git, she will not." His father pulled out his cell phone and dialed a number. He held it to his ear and waited for the person to pick up.

"Dad! If you'd listen for just one sec—"

"Hello, Peterson? Get Lansey on the line. You know that new girl I've got my eye on? She's a _PowerPuff Girl_."

Butch cussed under his breath. This was definitely not the reaction he'd been aiming for out of his father. He shot a laser in his father's direction, attempting to fry his cell phone from his hand, but the beam sliced just under his arm and singed the wall directly behind him.

"Butch, quit fucking around!" his father hissed. "I've got work to do!"

Scowling, Butch whirled around and stormed out of the room, making sure to slam the door violently on his way out. As he left, he could hear his father's eager voice excitedly telling his manager about that green-eyed, black-haired _Puff_.

Shit, shit, fuck. Fucking fuck. Of all the fucking—

He allowed a low growl to escape his throat, turning it into a full-on scream.

Fuck his dad for having an eye for talent.

Fuck his stupid idea to have his birthday at a goddamn _karaoke bar_.

Fuck Buttercup for being so goddamn fucking perfect.

* * *

_Your reviews could save thousands of lives._


	6. Don't Look Back

**Title: Under a Harlequin Spotlight**

**Chapter Six: Don't Look Back**

**Pairing(s): none for this chapter.**

**Rating: T, because I like pie**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but my extensive collection of PowerPuff Girls Memorabilia. And also Liam Handson.**

**Summary: The truth to one's past might be the key to their future...**

**A/N: Remember, all, my contest expires tonight at midnight! The poll will go up tomorrow morning, and you'll all have until Saturday to vote for your favourite stories! I'll announce the winner on Sunday and next month's word will be out by the end of the day Sunday. Best of luck to you all!**

** I'm not too proud of this chapter, but eh. It had to be done. The next chapter, though, is where the real action is. It's a really long chapter, so brace yourselves! In the meantime, please enjoy this chapter! :)**

**xoxo ~ml**

* * *

**Chapter Six - Don't Look Back**

It was another boring and tedious day at the bar. The impending dark, rumbling clouds in the distance didn't help much with that case.

Buttercup glanced toward Liam, washing the next of the dishes as she toweled off another shining glass. She handed it carefully to the bus girl, who placed it tenderly on its shelf. The short, synchronized assembly line worked agonizingly to wash, dry, and place away the dishes as the three workers stared together out the small kitchen window with the same depressed, sulking look on each of their faces.

"What a lame day," Liam mumbled. The girls merely nodded or stared in response, respectively. The atmosphere was too dull for a verbal reply.

The door to the kitchen swung open slowly and the three teens' eyes wandered lazily in the direction of the entering person. It was Leo. As if the day couldn't have gotten any worse.

Leo straightened his usual suit jacket and stuck his nose in the air at the sight of the kitchen. It was actually pretty clean for her standards, so Buttercup wasn't quite sure what he was so paranoid of. He turned his pointed nose in Buttercup's direction and nodded ever slightly.

"Miss Utonium, there's a visitor here to see you," he said snobbily, as if he couldn't possibly understand why anyone would ever want to see Buttercup. He quickly turned on his heel and made his way out of the kitchen, worried about catching a disease or something, no doubt.

Buttercup raised her eyebrows and made eye contact with Liam, who raised his eyebrows in return. The two needn't exchange any words. They were close enough that reading the others' expressions were just as sufficient as verbal conversation. Buttercup shot a glance over her shoulder at the bus girl before tossing her towel onto the counter and leaving the kitchen behind Leo.

She spotted a tall, dark-haired man standing at the front of the bar, looking around, careful to take every last inch of the place under his dark-eyed gaze. He sat himself down comfortably in a barstool as Buttercup approached, speaking to the bartender in a quiet voice so Buttercup could not hear what he said. As she finally reached the bar, the bartender nodded at the man and began to fill his drink.

The man turned almost immediately to face Buttercup. As soon as his eyes rested on her, they brightened significantly and a huge smile crawled across his face.

"Buttercup Utonium," he said in recognition, extending his hand in friendship. "It's a great pleasure to finally meet you face-to-face."

Buttercup stared at the man's hand extended out in front of her, confused. He shook his head and recoiled his hand.

"Excuse me," he said with a chuckle. "Where are my manners? My name is Erik Johnson." he reached into the inside pocket of his coat and brought forth a single business card, which he offered to Buttercup. She took it, curiously.

"**Erik Johnson, President**

**Waterlight Record Co.**

**'Making Dreams Come True Since 1966'."**

After examining the card carefully, she met the dark eyes of the man again. What was he here for? What did he want with Buttercup?

Her still-questioning look must've been enough for him to continue.

"I was here a few nights ago on business," he said officially. "I had the wonderful pleasure of hearing your performance. And might I say, you've got _quite the talent_, girl."

Something about this man seemed familiar, but Buttercup just simply couldn't place it. Maybe it was his body build, or the way he spoke so casually to her, as if they were old friends.

He gestured to the stool next to him. "Have a seat, my dear, and I'll treat you to a drink."

Buttercup stared at the stool as its seat flashed from a dull neon blue to a sickly neon green. The bartender shot her a warning look, which she ignored.

"I'd love to," she began slowly, "But I'm not one to break the law."

She jerked her head in the direction of the 'Must be 21 with ID prepared to be sold alcoholic beverage' sign. The man raised his eyebrows.

"How old _are _you?" he asked, slightly surprised.

Buttercup was taken aback. How old did he think she was? What a rude thing to ask. She folded her arms across her chest.

"I'm seventeen," she said indignantly, earning a good eyebrow-raise from the man, who then took a quick swig of his drink.

"I see," he mused. He stirred the ice in his drink with a thoughtful hand as Buttercup tapped her foot, impatient.

"Is there something I can do for you, Mr." —she glanced down at the card in her hand— "Johnson?"

The man nodded eagerly, as if he'd only just remembered his reason for summoning the young employee.

"Oh, there's so very much you can do for me!" he said excitedly. Another feeling of déjà vu came over Buttercup's mind and she shifted her weight to the other foot, her arms still crossed and her eyes expectant. "I work for a very high-class scouting record company, Buttercup, and I am greatly interested, greatly interested /indeed/, in your talent."

Her eyebrows furrowed on her forehead. "If this is about the whole PowerPuff thing, I don't really have time to—"

He shook his head. "Oh, no, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to give off that impression," he said quickly. "That's actually not why I'm here."

Buttercup nodded, still not quite sure where he was going with this. Still, a giddy leap jolted through her abdomen as she recounted the endless possibilities in her mind. Could this be the break she'd been waiting for?

Mr. Johnson took another swig of his drink, motioning to the bartender for another round. "You may be young," he continued, "But you've got loads of potential. I think that if you start out big now, there's no telling where you'll go in the future. Besides, you've already gotten a taste of fame given your PowerPuff career, and I'm willing to drag that even further."

"What's your point here, mister?" Buttercup asked, getting a bit impatient now.

The man blinked, slightly taken aback at her forwardness, but he shook it off quickly and grinned slightly. "I'd like to sign you to a recording contract, Buttercup."

Buttercup's eyes went wide at the sound of his statement. Was she dreaming? Was this all some sort of joke? Were there television cameras hiding behind the bar and around the corner ready to jump out and say, 'you just got punk'd!' and laugh along with the live audience? Could this really be happening?

Mr. Johnson chuckled at the surprised look on Buttercup's face. "I know it's a pretty big descision," he admitted. "At least think about it. We'd really like to see what you can do with Waterlight Records. I'll give you three days to respond. You've got my card. See you soon."

The man downed his second drink in a single swig and shot a glance over his shoulder as he left. Along with that glance, he sent something else. A wink.

Buttercup's eyebrows furrowed. Now she _knew _this had been déjà vu. She'd definitely seen that man before. But she couldn't quite place where...

...but who really cared, anyways? He wanted to _sign_ her! For an actual _record company_! She couldn't believe it. She thought for sure she was still dreaming. She shook her head several times in disbelief, her jaw still fallen slack in reaction. She overturned the business card in her hands, making _sure_ she knew it was real, that it wasn't all a dream.

The bartender raised an eyebrow at her and she laughed right out loud, holding the card out in front of his face.

"He wants to sign me!" she cried incredulously. She laughed disbelievingly again and bounced up and down on the balls of her feet.

She darted back into the kitchen, ran straight for Liam and attacked him. She grasped his shoulders tightly and started jumping up and down excitedly, causing his brain to shake inside his skull.

"Whoa, whoa, chill out, BC," he said dizzily, closing his eyes to stop his eyeballs from spinning in their sockets. "What's going on?"

Buttercup didn't stop jumping as she gasped out her news. "That guy— Mr. Johnson! He wants to sign me! A recording contract! Waterlight records! I can't believe this!"

Liam's eyebrows shot into his hairline and he folded his arms across his chest, watching Buttercup bound around the kitchen again, the man's business card still clutched in her hand.

"What are you— Wait a second, lemme see that," he snatched the card out of her fingers. She barely noticed. She was too busy squealing—yes, _squealing_— into her apron. His eyes scanned over the words on the card, his eyebrows still raised curiously.

"Huh," he mumbled thoughtfully, turning over the card. "Waterlight records... Aren't they the same company who signed Josh Bereset his first deal?"

She nodded eagerly. Josh Bereset was a famous guitarist for their favourite band, _Sometime High_. **[1]**

Liam just smiled. "I can't say I'm surprised, BC, but this is really amazing!"

She beamed at him. She actually _beamed_. Buttercup Utonium, who only ever smiled when she was onstage, flashed her pearly whites bringing her lips back as far as they would go, so far it hurt.

"What do you think?" she asked him suddenly, her expression growing serious. "Should I go for it?"

Liam shrugged. "Hey, it's a great opportunity, BC," he said truthfully. "You may never get another op like this one as long as you live. I sure will miss performing alongside my little shining star around here, but I'm sure I'll be invited to all your concerts when you're famous, right?" he grinned.

Buttercup's face went pale and she grasped his arm tightly. "Oh, Liam," she whispered, suddenly concerned, "The bar."

"Yeah? What about it?"

"You... You're still going to... I can't just leave you here to play on your own!"

He scoffed. "Don't have such little faith in me, BC," he said with a laugh. "Soon's I'm done with this last song I'll be making my first album, remember?"

This seemed to calm Buttercup a bit but she didn't loosen her grip on his arm. If anything, it tightened. He couldn't feel any part of his arm below his elbow. He casually tried flexing his fingers. They still worked, thankfully, but this tingling in his hand wasn't a good sign. She stared at him with wide, worried eyes.

"I won't have you as my guitarist anymore," she whispered seriously.

He laughed, releasing some more of the tension in Buttercup's shoulders. She loosened her grip on his arm and looked at him hopefully. He flexed his arm, the nerves tingling as blood rushed back into his fingertips. It was now his turn to rest his hands on her shoulders, although when he did it, it was in a gentle and soothing manner.

"I'll still be here when you get back," he assured her, tracing circles on her shoulders with his thumbs. "This bar and I aren't going anywhere, trust me. Not without you."

She turned the corners of her mouth up into a smile and he kissed her on the cheek. She rolled her eyes and wiped the kiss away.

"You're too touchy-feely," she muttered, suddenly sullen. He just laughed.

* * *

Buttercup nearly rocketed through her front door after her shift ended. She bolted into the kitchen and stuck the precious business card from Mr. Johnson onto the fridge with a _Miami_ magnet and called out to the rest of her house.

"Professor! I'm home!"

"In the lab, Buttercup!" the Professor's muffled voice called back. She flew through the door to the lab and carefully floated around the tables and beakers and unfinished chemistry experiments until she spotted the Professor and Blossom working behind one of the tables, both wearing safety goggles and white lab coats. She rolled her eyes and entered their line of vision, causing Blossom to set down the beaker she was holding and meet her eyes.

"What are you so excited about?" she asked curiously. The Professor seemed to be thinking the same question as he pulled his safety goggles off his eyes and onto his forehead.

"Where's Bubbles?" Buttercup demanded, ignoring her sister's question.

Blossom shrugged. "Her room, maybe? Why? What's going on?"

Buttercup ignored her again. She pulled her cell phone out of her bag and dialed Bubbles' number.

"Hello?" Bubbles answered.

"Bubbles! Come down to the lab, _right now_!"

She heard her sister hop into a standing position on the other line.

"What? Why? What's going—"

"Hurry up!" Buttercup snapped. She ended the call and turned towards the door just as Bubbles burst through it.

"Buttercup? Blossom? What's going on?" Bubbles asked worriedly, dashing to her side and observing the scene with wide, fearful eyes. Blossom and the Professor were watching Buttercup with raised eyebrows and questioning looks. Bubbles' gaze halted on Buttercup's eager face in confusion. Her eyes flickered from the eager Buttercup to the wary Professor and Blossom, who shrugged.

"You guys are not going to believe what happened to me today!" Buttercup exclaimed, absolutely bursting with energy.

Blossom sighed and pulled her own safety goggles from her eyes. "I'm so sure, Buttercup," she muttered.

"Shut up and let me finish!" Buttercup snapped, her bright green eyes fiery and nearly insanely jerking from one family member to another. The Professor shot her a stern look, but again, she ignored it. She licked her lips and started again. "Okay. So this guy from Waterlight records came to my work and asked to see me—"

"Waterlight records?" Blossom interrupted. "Isn't that the same company that signed that kid from CityVille a few years ago...?"

Buttercup scoffed, annoyed. "His name is Josh Bereset, and yes, let me finish." she licked her lips again. "So this guy's name is Mr. Johnson and he told me he wants to _sign _me, like for a_ recording contract_ and everything!"

Blossom and Bubbles exchanged unreadable glances. "A recording contract?" Bubbles repeated.

"But... Aren't you kind of... _young_ to be doing that sort of thing?" Blossom questioned.

Buttercup rolled her eyes again and bent her knees in desperation. "Guys. The youngest kid on _American Idol _was only sixteen! I'm seventeen and only five months til eighteen! Do you get how incredible this is?!" she hopped on the balls of her feet again, looking hopefully at the Professor. But her father said nothing. His expression was unreadable, but he didn't meet her eye, and it send shivers down her spine.

"Professor?" she tested, leaning towards him hopefully.

The Professor's eyes snapped to hers and he half-smiled. "A recording contract," he said plainly. "Sounds... Exciting."

Buttercup nodded eagerly. "Yes, yes, it _is_ exciting, Professor! So exciting, you're going to let me sign? Right?" she jumped up and down again in front of him, causing a few of the beakers on the table to rattle dangerously. The Professor and Blossom each made a mad grab for a beaker before it spilled over and Blossom shot Buttercup an angry glare.

"This is so cool!" Bubbles exclaimed, clapping her hands together. "Buttercup, you're going to be famous!" she started to jump up and down with her sister, her long blonde pigtails bouncing behind her.

The ever-rational Blossom rolled her eyes and noted, "You're already famous. You're a PowerPuff Girl."

"But she isn't famous too far from here!" Bubbles said, placing a hand on Buttercup's shoulder. "If she sings she'll be known all over the country! Maybe even the whole nation!"

Blossom stared at her. "The country and the nation are the same thing, Bubbles," she said softly.

Bubbles made a face. "Whatever, she might get to travel the world!"

"That's so irresponsible!" Blossom cried. "She'd have to spend her senior year of high school on the road or away from home! Not to mention the countless fans and shows she'll have to deal with night after night, the emotional strain such a celebrated lifestyle can have on one person is overwhelming!"

"But she'd be making such good money!" Bubbles retorted. "She'd never have to work again! She could buy anything she wanted, and still have some left over! And she could inspire young people everywhere, telling the story of how one normal girl from Townsville made it in the big time!"

Blossom groaned. "But she isn't a _normal girl_! She's a PowerPuff! Like us, remember?"

"So?" Buttercup snapped. "What if I don't want to be known as just 'The Toughest Fighter' anymore? Or 'The Green PowerPuff Girl'? What if I feel like I deserve more than that? Why can't I have the same chances as anyone else?"

The Professor had gone awfully quiet. He busied himself by cleaning up a few chemicals and wiping down a beaker with a wet nap.

"Professor!" Bubbles exclaimed. "Are you going to let her do it?"

The Professor's gaze flicked from Bubbles to Buttercup. He cleared his throat. He opened his mouth to answer, and—

"Of course he isn't," Blossom cut in, folding her arms across her chest. "He's not that stupid. Right, Professor?"

She turned her eyes to him now. All three of the girls were watching him hopefully, Bubbles and Buttercup praying for yay, Blossom betting on the 'nay's. He swallowed. Straightened a beaker on the table. Glanced at each of them again. They each met his eyes. Bubbles was eager, Blossom was stern, and Buttercup...

Buttercup was staring at him as if her entire life depended on his next decision. And he supposed it did, in a way. If he said yes her life as she (and anyone else) knew it would be permanently altered. Whether it was for the good was unforeseeable, but he'd always hoped for the best for his girls. He wanted Buttercup to take the opportunity, but there was always that dangerous risk involved. But then again, what was life without a little risk?

He thought of Blossom and Bubbles, his other two beautiful girls. Blossom proposed an arguable point, he had to admit, but so did Bubbles, for once. They both had legitimate reasons as to why he should or shouldn't let Buttercup sign this deal. And Buttercup argued her point very clearly, as well. He wanted to give his girls everything they wanted, but was this too much? Would Buttercup really let the fame go to her head? Was she responsible enough for this?

The Professor allowed his eyes to rest on his dark-haired daughter again. Her bright green eyes were shining with such a spark as he had never seen before; he knew this was her real passion and it would be cruel to take that from her. He sighed and smiled lightly, one corner of his mouth tugging up into a half-dimple. He pulled Buttercup into a hug, which, though surprised, she returned gratefully.

"I'm not going to keep you from fulfilling your dream," he assured her, squeezing her tight. "If this is what you really want, you go for it. Shoot for the moon, Buttercup. Even if you miss, you'll land among the stars."

She smiled widely at him. Not a stage smile, which he had seen a million times before, but a real, true, genuine smile that made him want to melt into a giant professor-coloured puddle right there on the lab floor.

"_What_?!" Blossom exclaimed disbelievingly. Buttercup shot her a smug look from over the Professor's arm as she glared at her, outraged.

"Yay!" Bubbles squealed, wrapping her arms around both the Professor and Buttercup. "Buttercup's gonna be famous!"

The blonde girl giggled endlessly, barely noticing when she lifted the two off the ground and twirled them around.

"Okay, Bubbles, that's enough," the Professor said suddenly, eying the ground as if he were a million miles in the air. She giggled again and set them down gently.

Buttercup pulled out of his hug and said sincerely, "Thank you, thank you, thank you, Professor! I seriously love you more than you will ever know."

Before he had time to process what she'd just said to him, he blinked and she was out of his arms altogether, skipping around the lab with Bubbles, a huge grin on her normally emotionless face. His mouth turned up into a full-on smile as he looked on, Blossom pouting by his side. He placed an arm on his red-haired daughter's shoulder.

"Cheer up, Blossom honey," he said softly to her. "She'll be fine. What could go wrong?"

Although Blossom could think of plenty of things that could possibly go wrong in this situation, she decided to keep her mouth shut for once. Even she didn't have a chance of winning such an argument. For once the Professor made up his mind, there was no changing that.

Buttercup was going to sign a recording contract, and that was the end of it.

"_Hello, Mr. Johnson? This is Buttercup Utonium. I'm calling to accept your offer..._"

* * *

**[1] - This is a completely fictional band, which I completely made up. It's actually based off _All Time Low_ (get it?), my very favourite band in the world. Also Josh Bereset = Jack Barakat (ATL).**

_Every review will help to provide harmonicas for aspiring young buffalo trampolinists._


	7. Fancy Soaps and Lobster Tails

**Title: Under a Harlequin Spotlight**

**Chapter Seven: Fancy Soaps and Lobster Tails**

**Pairing(s): Greens, with a splash of blues and reds.**

**Rating: T, because the voices in my head told me to**

**Disclaimer: the only thing I own is the plot line and quite possibly a purple goat named Maria**

**Summary: The truth to one's past might be the key to their future...**

**A/N: Hello my lovely peoples :) I'm so grateful for all the reviews I've gotten from you all you're all truly wonderful :) sorry I've been getting sooooo off track lately, I just had a really good idea and I couldn't help it. But thanks for being so supportive, nonetheless!**

**I've really been looking forward to this chapter, as I hope all of you have as well! It's the longest chapter yet! I was planning onsplitting it in half, but I couldn't find a good place to cut it off at, so I decided against it.**

**Consider it my sort of goodbye gift... I start school tomorrow and I'm not going to be on as frequently as I hope /: **

**no worries though, look for the last part of the birthday trilogy to be published later today, and I'll be on as often as I can!**

**Enjoy the extra long update, love you all! :)**

**xoxo ~ml**

* * *

**Chapter Seven - Fancy Soaps and Lobster Tails**

Buttercup wasn't exactly the type of person who liked to have things. She had her wardrobe, which wasn't much in itself, her iPod, and her soccer ball. Aside from six different pairs of multicoloured converse, she didn't own much. So it didn't take her very long at all to shove everything into a medium-sized, green suitcase and a small carry-on for her hairbrush, iPod, and other hygiene essentials. Within an hour, she was completely packed and ready to finally leave.

Unfortunately for her, the Professor and her sisters had other ideas.

"You have to spend your last day here reliving all of your childhood memories," Bubbles explained as she tugged her into the kitchen. "I'm making your favourite for lunch: ribs!"

Ribs for lunch? Good thing Buttercup hadn't eaten breakfast that morning.

"But Bubbles," Buttercup protested with an eye roll, "You're a vegetarian."

Her blonde sister laughed. "Just because you're eating it doesn't mean I have to."

So she got to work on cooking the ribs. Buttercup couldn't say she was disappointed. She really did love ribs. It was a rarity in itself for her sister to cook anything with meat in it, so ribs were a once-in-a-lifetime occurrence. Mealtime usually involved something nutritious, made with tofu or some foreign vegetable Buttercup had never heard of. It took heaps of ketchup and salt for her to even taste most of Bubbles' meals. But it's not like anyone could complain. She and Blossom had never once stepped foot in the kitchen if it wasn't for a snack or a bowl of cereal. Blossom couldn't even make a decent sandwich. And the Professor wasn't much help, either. His specialty was liver and onions. It was either eat Bubbles' food or starve to death. So Buttercup wasn't about to protest.

But lunch wasn't all Bubbles had meant when she said 'reliving childhood memories'. Buttercup was forced to endure several family videos after lunch. In seeing the videos, she was unwillingly whipped back in time, back to when she was a five-year-old, carefree crime fighter, destroying monsters and going above and beyond that of her sisters' strength to prove that she was, indeed, the Toughest Fighter. Bubbles insisted on watching a certain tape in which Buttercup obsessed over her favourite blanket, which supposedly gave her strength. Everyone except Buttercup laughed watching the tape when Buttercup refused to bathe. Blossom jokingly made the green Puff promise to bathe while she was gone, because her sisters wouldn't be there to remind her.

It was then that Buttercup decided she'd had enough, and she stood up with a stretch and a yawn, and said that if she didn't get going soon she would probably lose her chance at the deal. At that comment, Bubbles got all worried and started to bustle around, collecting Buttercup's things and shoving a few trinkets into her hands, telling her to take them 'just in case'. Blossom and the Professor watched with amused eyes as Bubbles basically re-packed everything for Buttercup, and Buttercup replaced everything Bubbles gave her. When at last Bubbles was convinced that her sister was completely packed and ready to go, Buttercup snatched Mr. Johnson's card from the refrigerator door and shoved it in her hoodie pocket.

It was an unusually chilly June day as the foursome stepped outside and piled into the Professor's same old white caravan, Buttercup's suitcase tossed carelessly in the trunk.

"Where is this guy's place again, Buttercup?" Blossom asked curiously, staring at Buttercup from the passenger seat.

Buttercup averted her eyes from the window and turned her face towards the front seat. Her gaze flickered to her pocket and she took out Mr. Johnson's card, which was crinkled and torn a bit at the edges. She flipped it over to the address she'd jotted on the back.

"Uhm, 23455 Fairlane Boulevard." She looked up and met Bubbles' wide eyes. "He lives in that really nice place on the outskirts of Citysville."

The Professor's eyebrows shot into his hairline. "Fairlane Boulevard?" he repeated, rounding the corner and heading towards the fancy suburban streets of town. "That's _really_ nice."

Blossom nodded. "Well he's a record company owner, isn't he? You'd expect him to be pretty wealthy..."

"I guess," Buttercup said with a shrug.

"It's awfully nice of him to invite you to stay at his home, Buttercup," the Professor said kindly.

Buttercup squirmed in her seat. It _would_ have been nice of him to let her stay in his home, but the thing was, she hadn't _exactly_ been invited. He didn't live all that far from the Utonium home, but Buttercup would give anything to finally be away from them. She loved her family dearly, but she wasn't sure how much longer she could handle living in such a small home with the three of them not allowing her to sing or even listen to music. So when Mr. Johnson had made the suggestion over the phone that she move closer to the recording studio (which was somewhere on the outside of Citysville), she jumped at the chance to finally leave her childhood home. Buttercup wasn't one for nostalgia, so leaving her home behind wasn't that big of a deal to her. But she knew the Professor would never allow her to move into an apartment on her own, so she, well... _stretched the truth_ a bit for him to let her go. She had enough saved up to move herself into a small apartment relatively close to the studio, and once she was making more with her records she'd be able to afford it on a monthly basis. Her plan was foolproof.

"I've got a present for you in honour of... well... this whole thing." The Professor smiled at his middle daughter in the rear-view mirror. "It's in that bag down by your feet."

Buttercup was used to getting things from the Professor, mindless trinkets and sweaters and the like, so she was quite surprised when she tore away the paper to reveal a small, white box with an apple on the front. Immediately, Buttercup's eyes lit up and she held the box up for her sisters to see.

"Is this what I think it is?!" she asked excitedly. Bubbles was gaping at her and Blossom was glaring sternly at the Professor, who beamed.

"Go ahead and open it," he said with a laugh.

But Buttercup didn't need to be told twice. In the blink of an eye, the box was completely discarded on the seat next to her and in her hands she gingerly held her brand new iPhone.

"I—I can't believe this!" Buttercup gasped, turning the device over in her hands carefully. "Professor, how did you—?"

"Don't ask questions," he said sneakily. "Just enjoy it while you can. I wanted to be able to keep in touch, and—"

But his speech was cut off by the raven-haired girl glomping his shoulders from the backseat. The car veered off the road for a second before the Professor regained his bearings and straightened the wheel.

"Thank you so much Professor!"

The Professor's face flushed a deep red as he stuttered, "Y-You're welcome."

Blossom gaped at him. "Professor!" she scolded. "You said you couldn't afford to buy us cell phones until we were eighteen!" She folded her arms across her chest and watched enviously as Buttercup fiddled with her new gadget.

The Professor just shrugged. "Now, Blossom, I know what I said, but this is a special occasion. Buttercup will be living away from the rest of us for a while, and I want her to have some way of contacting us while she's gone."

Blossom stuck out her bottom lip enviously. "You didn't have to get her such a _cool_ phone, though."

Buttercup couldn't help but grin at that statement. "Jealous much, leader-girl? That's not very mature. You're gonna give yourself wrinkles with all that frowning you're doing."

Blossom just rolled her eyes and turned around so she didn't have to look at the smug grin on her sister's face.

Up until this point on the car ride, Bubbles had remained silent and staring, not saying anything for fear that she'd burst into tears at any second. She wanted Buttercup to be famous, but she sure was going to miss having her around. Her bottom lip quavered slightly even as she stared at the new toy in Buttercup's hands. For her, this simple gift of the cell phone was the deciding factor; her sister was really leaving for good.

"Looks like this is the street," the Professor said softly, breaking the silence. He pulled down a wide street and they all gaped at the surrounding houses. All of the homes were less like houses and more like _mansions._ They towered above the tiny car as it puttered down the street, past several identical doors on either side of it and driveways that housed expensive cars with shiny tinted windows. They drove on in awed silence for a few blocks before the Professor pulled into a rounded driveway in front of a house with the number '23455' engraved on a gold plaque near the door.

Standing there waiting for them was the very same man Buttercup had met the few nights before at the bar, with what seemed to be the same grey suit and black tie he'd worn before. He had a cell phone glued to his ear, but when he spotted Buttercup through the window of her car, he quickly mumbled something into the phone and hung up, approaching the car with a wide grin.

"Buttercup!" he greeted her happily, opening her door to help her out of the car. "So glad you and your family could make it! Bernard will take your car to the back, and the ladies will take your suitcases... Girls!"

At his voice, three young women in black-and-white aprons scurried out of the house and down the front steps. Mr. Johnson ordered them to take Buttercup's things out of the trunk and carry them into one of the guest rooms for now. After Buttercup had slipped her brand new iPhone into her suitcase, the women did as they were told. An older man came out and relieved the Professor of his keys, pulling the car away and leaving Blossom, Bubbles, Buttercup and the Professor standing a bit awkwardly on the front step.

"Please, come in and make yourselves at home, girls," Mr. Johnson said kindly, opening the door for them and patting the nervous-looking Professor on the back. "Come on in, Professor."

As soon as they stepped inside, the three girls' and the Professor's eyes grew ten times their normal size and their jaws fell slack. This was the biggest front room they had ever seen. The ceiling was tall and brightly lit, despite the rapidly darkening sky outside. There were large bay windows and long artistic tapestries adorning the walls, causing Bubbles to gasp with glee. As they entered the sitting room, Blossom could spot a door slightly open to their left, and peeking through it almost caused her to have a heart attack. This room was the library, and there were rows upon endless rows of books, from every author from Jane Austen to Marguerite Yourcenar. She had to look away before her heart gave out.

"I assume you've met my boys, Buttercup," Mr. Johnson said smoothly, lighting a cigar and offering one to the Professor, who shook his head quickly and said he'd stick to his pipe.

Buttercup's eyebrows furrowed on her forehead. Boys? What boys? What did he mean? Why would he assume that she'd met his 'boys'? Blossom and Bubbles watched Buttercup with unreadable expressions, and Buttercup just shook her head.

"No, I haven't, who are they?" Buttercup asked Mr. Johnson.

Mr. Johnson met her gaze disbelievingly. "Well... You _have _met them, but maybe you simply wouldn't remember..."

Buttercup was confused now. She looked to the Professor for any sign that he might know what this man was talking about, but he was focused on identifying the tobacco Mr. Johnson had filled his pipe with.

"I'm sorry, am I supposed to know..." but she couldn't think of how to go on. It sounded rude and she immediately regretted saying it. Blossom glared sternly at her but Bubbles still had a confused look on her face.

"Yes, well, I suppose you wouldn't think... My sons..." Mr. Johnson shook his head rapidly as he digressed and smiled to himself. He leaned back on the mantle in the sitting room and looked at each of the Puffs in turn. "No matter, I'll call them out, but I trust you won't make a scene?"

Buttercup's gaze flickered to Blossom, who jerked her head slightly.

"Of course," Buttercup agreed. She straightened her green hoodie and fixed her black leggings with a deep breath as Mr. Johnson called for his sons.

The girls weren't quite sure what Mr. Johnson was talking about, but they didn't like the sound of it.

* * *

_**Earlier...**_

The boys' father burst into the dining room with a wide grin on his face as he hung up his cell phone, finally.

"Carrie! Sarah!" two women immediately appeared in front of him from the kitchen. "I need you to prepare your best meal for tonight!"

"How's lobster?" the shorter of the two women asked.

"That's perfect. Make it perfect. Everything has to be perfect for tonight." he clapped his hands together and strode into the sitting room, where his three sons were watching television. "Boys, I've got some news for you."

The boys offered no sign that they'd heard him. Their eyes remained glued to the large, wide-screen television unblinkingly. Their father did not hesitate to stride right over to the television and switch it off.

"Hey, I was watching that!" Butch exclaimed, hopping to his feet from his position on the couch.

Brick's arm shot out and snatched the back of Butch's shirt, yanking him back down to the couch.

"He's trying to talk to us, idiot," Brick snapped. He stuck out his leg and kicked Boomer, who was fast asleep on the chair on the side of the room, causing him to jerk awake.

"Wha—who?" he stuttered, jolting into a sitting position and looking around the room.

Their father nodded thankfully at Brick and continued.

"Yes, okay, well, I've officially signed that girl from the karaoke bar on your birthday, you remember?"

Brick and Boomer's eyes lit up and they nodded eagerly. Butch was disgusted. He scoffed but the other two pretended not to notice.

"I've invited her and her family over for dinner tonight, so I want you lot to be on your _best behaviour_. Do you understand?"

Brick and Boomer nodded, their eyes glazing over in lustful memory of the gorgeously perfect girl from the night before.

Butch, however, hadn't blinked. He tried with some difficulty not to scowl. He could feel his father's gaze boring into him as he stared intently at the floor. His words were directed straight at him, and he knew it. He knew his father was counting on this girl to get his company going, and he knew it was merely for business purposes that he was having this 'dinner party', so to speak, but he still couldn't compress his hatred for the idea. Signing one of the Powerpuff Girls for a record deal? The idea was like bitter acid in his mind. But he couldn't let his father down. He decided that he would try and be on his best behaviour upon the arrival of Buttercup and her family.

_Her family_. Shit, that meant _everyone_, didn't it? Her other two stuck-up bratty sisters, too? Butch glanced at his brothers, who were still staring dreamily off into space thinking about 'BC'. So much for the 'mystic wonder girl'. Boy, were they in for a shock. He smirked. His father noticed.

"Butch, _do you understand_?" his father repeated with emphasis, burning holes in Butch's face with his glare. Butch nodded solemnly.

"Yeah, I guess," he responded through gritted teeth, kicking the carpet with his shoe.

Their father's face lit up once again and he patted the three boys on their backs. "Excellent!" he said cheerfully. "Now put on something decent; they'll be here around seven."

Their father spun away on his heel, leaving the three boys alone in the sitting room.

"Something decent, eh?" Brick repeated with a grin. He turned to Boomer with a sly look in his eye. "Maybe I'll '_accidentally_' take too long in the shower and come out in just a towel..." he nudged Boomer's arm with his elbow, and the blonde rolled his eyes.

"Oh, that's classy," Boomer muttered. "At least I'll have the decency to put pants on."

"You guys are so disgusting," Butch muttered. He stood up from the couch and made to walk away when Brick laughed out loud.

"Just because you have a girlfriend doesn't mean you can't admit that chick was hot," Brick said. Boomer winced, recalling his brother's previous lashing-out when he'd called BC hot.

Butch's fists clenched at his sides and he gritted his teeth. But he said nothing. For once, he controlled his anger and simply left the room. But he wasn't expecting them to follow him back upstairs with their giddy talk of the singing girl.

"I can't believe she's gonna be in our actual _house_," Boomer said excitedly.

"Yeah, maybe I'll be able to sneak her up to my room..." Brick smirked.

Butch almost threw up. He whirled around at the top of the stairs and faced his brothers irritatedly.

"Are you guys really that fucking horny that all you can think about is getting that girl alone?!" Butch cried angrily.

Boomer and Brick exchanged glances but said nothing.

"You don't even know who that girl is!" Butch continued to shout. "You have no fucking idea..."

He didn't know why he felt the urge to keep Buttercup's true identity from his brothers, but he knew he couldn't even get the words out of his mouth without tasting bile. They didn't understand. But they would... in due time. And maybe that's what he was waiting for. To see the stupid looks on their faces when they realized...

Butch smirked. It wasn't worth all the trouble. Brick and Boomer would make fools of themselves once they found out who Buttercup was. And what's more, her sisters were going to be there, too. An extra bonus —in some way or another— for Butch. He just rolled his eyes and trudged into his room without another word. He heard his brothers muttering to each other outside his door, about how insane he was or something. He didn't care. They would see soon enough...

* * *

Butch watched from his bedroom window as the small white caravan pulled up the driveway and spluttered to a stop. He could hear Brick and Boomer scuttling around in the next room as Buttercup stepped out of the vehicle and greeted their father kindly. He only watched with half an interested eye as the other members of the Utonium family got out of the car and stretched their... _legs_. Holy fucking damn, all three of them had mile long legs.

He cursed himself for saying that. He moved away from the window and picked up his cell phone from his bed. Big surprise. He had three text messages from Rebecca. With a sigh, he quickly replied to them and shoved his phone in his back jeans pocket.

Although his father had asked him to put on something decent, he'd ignored him completely. Butch decided on an old t-shirt and a pair of faded, ripped blue jeans. He didn't even bother to put gel in his hair as he usually did, leaving it limp and wavy on his head.

A few minutes later, he heard his father's voice calling for the boys from downstairs. In a flash of red and blue, Brick and Boomer were darting down the stairs and lining up front and center before their father. Butch just smirked and casually sauntered down the staircase, taking his sweet old time to reach his father's side.

As he entered, he made sure to glare at each of the girls in turn, his eyes eventually lingering for an especially long time on Buttercup's. For some reason, it seemed, whenever their eyes met, a light shiver went down Buttercup's spine. He liked that. It meant she was afraid of him.

Finally, Butch allowed his eyes to break the stare with Buttercup and flitted over to observe his brothers' reactions. Figures. They were both practically drooling all over the sitting room floor. They'd both —thankfully— had the decency to put actual clothes on, Brick dressed in a smooth-looking red button down shirt and black slacks, Boomer in a light blue polo and khaki shorts. Butch rolled his eyes as he took his place flanking Brick's left, as usual.

"Well... Girls, these are my sons, Brick, Boomer, and Butch."

Completely ignoring his father's infuriated glare and the Girls' horrified looks, Butch tuned his ears to his brothers, who were whispering back and forth.

"Holy shit, do you see those _legs_?" Boomer whispered lustfully.

Brick nodded distractedly and allowed his eyes to travel up the middle girl's body. He took his time consuming the view of her body, decked out in white Capri pants and a hot pink tank top. Her fiery red hair was pulled into a side braid, flowing over her shoulder and down to her belly button. After about a year, he met her eyes—

—and nearly had a heart attack. Her eyes were a blazing pink, shooting him the dirtiest look imaginable, and he immediately knew who these three girls were.

"Boomer," he hissed as their father continued to tell the girls and the Professor about his sons' great achievements (which weren't many). "Do you know who they are?!"

Boomer blinked, confused, and Brick caught sight of a smirk in Butch's playful green eyes. Brick inched closer to Butch and scowled at him.

"You knew the whole time, didn't you?" he asked quietly. Butch just grinned at his brothers' expense.

Brick growled and smacked Boomer for eyeing Bubbles' creamy white thighs.

They had been so wrapped up in their little 'discussion', the boys hadn't realized their father had introduced the boys to their counterparts. Not that he'd needed to. They knew _exactly_ who each other were.

"Go on," their father encouraged them. "Shake hands and be friendly now."

The three boys shot their father the dirtiest looks they could muster and grudgingly stepped forward to meet their company.

Boomer, without hesitation, stuck his hand out and smiled widely. "Nice to meet you!" he said happily. Bubbles glanced nervously at her sisters before offering her hand to the blonde boy with a half-smile.

One down.

Next, the two leaders met eyes, angry sparks almost literally flying out of their gazes. Blossom squinted at Brick, who didn't offer his hand. She decided to be the bigger person and offered hers to him. With a smirk, Brick enclosed her small hand in his big meaty one and shook it once. He immediately dropped her hand and looked away.

Lastly, it was Butch and Buttercup's turn to perform the small act of friendship. They hadn't watched their siblings offer peace, they had been too busy staring each other down. Buttercup had controlled her shivers and had only felt her spine tremble once, initially.

The two greens stared at each other for what felt like an eternity before Mr. Johnson cleared his throat and Butch rolled his eyes, extending his hand to the girl before him. He couldn't believe he'd thought this freaky bitch was hot before. He was trying to grit his teeth and get over the fact that he couldn't stand this girl, but the way she was looking at him felt like she was challenging him in some way. He would ignore it, just ignore it... For the sake of his father...

She took his hand, squeezing tightly and shaking his arm in one rough jerking movement.

Alright, father or not, that was not acceptable. He gripped her hand tighter before she could pull away and nearly pulled her arm out of its socket shaking it violently.

"Okay!" his father said loudly, trying to stop the fight before it began. "What say we have dinner?"

The rest of the company nodded their heads, either eagerly in the Professor's and the blues' case, or grudgingly for the reds'.

Butch glared at Buttercup one last time, their hands lingering in each others' for a split second longer than necessary before he yanked his arm away and trudged off to the dining room.

Blossom hurriedly placed an arm on Buttercup's shoulder before she could go after him.

"Don't let him get to you," she muttered in her sister's ear. "Think of the deal."

"You didn't tell us he was their _father_!" Bubbles squealed quietly.

Buttercup still stared after her counterpart as they entered the dining room. "I didn't know," she said through gritted teeth.

* * *

Dinner in the RowdyRuff Boys' home was at a much less than comfortable level. Mr. Johnson and the Professor made small talk as they ate, trying their best to ignore the teenagers' death glares across the table at each other. Butch and Buttercup didn't touch their food, for they were preoccupied in a deadly staring contest. Brick and Blossom followed suit, although they, at least, broke eye contact every few seconds to have a few bites of their meals.

Bubbles was completely oblivious to her sisters' discomfort, and to Boomer's lustful gazes. She was engrossed in Mr. Johnson's and the Professor's conversation, offering a piece of her mind every so often.

Boomer, on the other hand, having received one too many smacks behind the head for eyeing Bubbles with that lustful look in his eyes, came up with a better idea. He worked on purposefully knocking his napkin to the floor, so he could bend down and gaze at Bubbles' long, graceful legs underneath the table. Once or twice he caught her with her guard down, and he almost got a glimpse of something that caused him to hit his head on the table.

"Boomer, keep your napkin on your lap or else I'll staple it there," Brick threatened, taking a sip of his drink. Blossom whispered something into Bubbles' ear and the blonde girl blushed a deep shade of red, averting her gaze from Boomer altogether.

Once, on the other end of the table, when his father wasn't looking, Butch flung a tiny lobster tail at his counterpart. She growled menacingly as the part landed in her hair, but she simply brushed it away and pretended like it had never happened. She couldn't afford to make a scene when the very key to her future was sitting just at the head of the table.

Finally, after the painfully agonizing dinner was over, the boys and their father left the Utonium family to the front room to say their goodbyes to Buttercup.

Bubbles had promised herself she wasn't going to cry, but as she turned to face her sister in the dim light, she couldn't stop the salty tears as they slid down her cheeks. This was really happening.

"I can't believe you're really leaving!" Bubbles sobbed into her sister's shoulder as she embraced her tightly. "I just can't believe it!"

Buttercup squirmed uncomfortably under her sister's grip and patted her awkwardly on the back. "Er, it's not me who's leaving, Bubbles," she said quietly.

Bubbles froze mid-hug and pulled away from Buttercup, blinking back her tears. "Wh-what?"

Buttercup squirmed again. "Erm, well, it's technically _you_ guys who're leaving."

Bubbles just stared at her, confused, and Blossom rolled her eyes. It had always been one of Buttercup's old habits to veer from the subject at hand when she felt uncomfortable. Blossom managed to pry Bubbles' skinny arms from around Buttercup's neck and gained access to her sister.

The redhead stood before her sister hesitantly for a moment, half-smiling, before pulling her into a tight hug.

"Good luck out there, Buttercup," Blossom said softly, squeezing Buttercup's shoulders tightly. "You know I don't hate it when you sing. You have a lovely singing voice. It just gets annoying every then and now when you ... you know... never stop." she grinned into Buttercup's shoulder. "And I'm sorry I haven't been very supportive these past few days. I guess I just... I didn't like the fact that you were better than me at something."

Buttercup squeezed back to let Blossom know she understood. "Thanks. That means a lot to me you know. I'll... uh..." she coughed nervously. "I'mgonnamissyou."

Although Blossom was shocked at her sister's words, jumbled and mushed though they were, she was quite touched and she smiled widely. "I'll miss you more."

Buttercup rolled her eyes. "You're right," she quipped, earning a playful smack on the arm from Blossom as she pulled away from the hug.

Lastly, the Professor stepped forward, a glint of a tear glistening in his eye. He smiled out of the corner of his mouth, looking into his daughter's shimmering green eyes.

"I trust you can behave yourself around all these boys?" he asked with a wink, a mischievous note in his voice.

Buttercup rolled her eyes. "I can take all three of them in my sleep," she replied nonchalantly. He raised his eyebrows at her and she chuckled. "Just kidding, Professor."

With a nervous sigh, he leaned down and wrapped his arms warmly around her, her small frame molding to his comfortably, for once.

"Have fun, and most importantly, be safe, darling," he muttered into her hair as he squeezed her tightly. He opened his mouth to add those three little words that he said so often, but she beat him to it.

"I love you, Dad," she whispered, almost too quiet for him to hear, but he heard her. He froze in her arms as she buried her nose into his neck, gripping the back of his jacket tightly in her fists.

"I-I love you too," he responded, not wanting to ever let his daughter go. He wanted to hold her in his arms forever; to keep her as the little girl he'd created so long ago in his lab. He wanted to tell her nothing was ever going to change. But of course that was a lie, and he had to let her go sometime. He had to let her grow up.

After what felt like an eternity, the Professor pulled away from his daughter with a sad smile and made his way out to the car with his other two daughters. The girls and the Professor waved goodbye as they pulled away. As they pulled down the driveway, with the Professor near hyperventilating and Bubbles bawling her eyes out, Blossom could've sworn she'd seen a hint of a tear in Buttercup's eye...

But of course not. It was just the light, reflecting off her cheek. Nothing else. Who was she kidding? Buttercup didn't cry.

* * *

"You'll see them again soon, don't worry," Mr. Johnson assured Buttercup, resting a steady hand on her shoulder as he led her back into the house.

"Or not," Brick muttered under his breath as Buttercup passed. He sat at the bottom of the grand staircase, cocking an invisible gun and aiming it at her face. She paid no attention to him. How immature.

"In the meantime, you can stay in the guest room upstairs."

Buttercup blinked in surprise. He was offering to let her stay here? Was this really happening?

As if to answer her question, Mr. Johnson nodded. "Yes, the recording studio is only a few miles from here, and you'll always have close access to it here. Besides, we've got our own little studio downstairs you can use to practise in. Sound good to you?"

Buttercup didn't know what to say. She still found it extremely hard to believe that this was actually happening to her. Her only response to the man's question was a slow, curt nod. When she regained her senses, she looked up at him eagerly. "Thank you, so much, Mr. Johnson!" she said happily.

He chuckled. "Call me Erik," he replied with a half-smile. "All my clients do. Follow me to your room where you can freshen up and everything." He led her up the grand staircase, literally yet inadvertently kicking Brick aside like an old rug on the bottom step, Buttercup noticed with a smirk. "You'll have complete privacy here, because none of the rooms in this hall are taken. This room on the left can be yours, complete with your own bathroom and balcony. Go ahead and check it out for yourself."

He opened a door to his immediate left and revealed to Buttercup her gorgeous room. It was far nicer than her room at home, the old playroom. It was even nicer than Blossom's and Bubbles' room. She opened a door just inside the room and noticed the large bathroom, equipped with a huge tub-shower combo and a full-length marble countertop. She walked over to the sink, twisting the cold water spigot and watching the water flow out quietly and evenly. She stuck her hands underneath it and began to wash them, out of old habit (Blossom always insisted that the girls wash their hands every night after dinner). She reached for the soap, which was resting on a little ledge next to the sink. Before she could pick it up, however, her hand froze mid-air. This soap was so fancy. She allowed her fingers to slowly enclose around the little flower-shaped bar of soap and brought it up to her nose carefully. She inhaled deeply, the sweet scent of lavender filling her nostrils. It smelled amazing.

Her muscles inadvertently relaxed and the flower-shaped bar slipped out of her hands into the bowl of the sink. She jumped and tried to retrieve it, but each time it slipped out of her hands. After a few minutes of this cat-and-mouse chase with the soap, she groaned and decided to just leave it there to die in the sink.

Stupid fancy soap.

* * *

_**Thud**_. The green dart came in contact with the board just inches from the bullseye.

"_Call me Erik_," Butch mocked his father. "_All my clients do_."

Boomer smirked and tossed his own blue dart. It landed on the outer ring, barely even on the board.

"Who the fuck do those girls think they are?" Butch groaned. "Just because they're the PowerPuff Girls, they think they've got complete and total control over the world."

He sighed and nonchalantly tossed his last dart at the board. It collided with the wall with a half-hearted **_thonk_** and fell to the floor harmlessly.

He sunk into an easy chair beside the chess table, where Brick was concentrated on a game against an invisible opponent.

"They pretty much do," Brick muttered under his breath as he moved a piece.

Yeah, I know what you mean," Boomer agreed, dropping his own final dart onto the table underneath the board. "Those _legs_, man." his eyes glazed over and he whistled low. Brick just nodded distractedly, agreeing with Boomer but too engrossed in his game to voice his opinion.

This time, instead of growing angry with his brothers, Butch found himself agreeing with them. Buttercup was so flawless. Why couldn't she have been ugly? Why didn't he beat her up a little harder back when they were kids so her face was messed up? He'd feel less bad about hating her, then.

"Seriously, what the fuck, guys," he groaned, leaning back and covering his face with his hands. "What the fucking fuck."

"What the fuck, indeed," Brick added with a yawn. "I can't believe Blossom actually kept her mouth shut all through dinner."

"She was too busy making sure you knew every time she moved her legs," Boomer pointed out, plopping himself down on the couch in the ET room.

Brick smirked.

"You must've dropped your napkin seventy times at dinner," he said to Boomer, who flushed a deep scarlet.

"Yeah, well, how could I resist?" he shrugged. "You didn't see what she was hiding under the table."

Brick just smirked again and moved a piece on his chess board.

Butch was silent. So, they were the PowerPuff Girls. So what. That didn't change the fact that they were drop-dead sexy as fuck. And it sure as _hell_ didn't change the fact that there was one of them under their very roof right now, possibly sleeping peacefully in one of the guest rooms upstairs. His counterpart. His opposite.

And she was flawless.

He couldn't help the fact that his hormones went insane every time he saw her. He couldn't help the fact that he was itching to touch her... _Even though you have a_ girlfriend, he thought with a locked jaw. He couldn't help the fact that the things he wanted to do to Buttercup were not limited to a childish food-fight at the table.

* * *

_Every review will allow you one kiss on the cheek from your favourite RowdyRuff / PowerPuff. BUT ONLY ONE. _


	8. Saving More Lives Than One

**Title: Under a Harlequin Spotlight**

**Chapter Eight: Saving More Lives Than One**

**Pairing(s): Buttercup x Butch c;**

**Rating: T, because sometimes I talk in my sleep**

**Disclaimer: I own the plot line, Liam Handson, and a stupid head of annoyingly red hair. -.- The song is 'Iris' by The Goo Goo Dolls c: c:**

**Summary: The truth to one's past might be the key to their future...**

**A/N: I hope you all enjoyed your kisses from the RRB ;) most of them were from Butch... well... sorry... he's mine so... GET YOUR OWN.**

**O.o are you people still reading this story?! ._. I'm surprised if you are... I just started school and everything, and so it's becoming really hard for me to stay on top of this. Considering the fact that the chapters I want to write are so jam-packed and long, it's taking me a while to write them. Junior year is the hardest year, I'm told, and they're right so far! I'm drowning in homework! ): So considering the new school year and everything, I've decided to make my updates weekly or as constant as I can. So look for an update every Friday. :D**

**To all those people who are asking if I'm going to include blues and reds — to be honest, I wasn't planning on it. I was just going to put in little snippets of them here and there, because of course the story is mainly greens. I'm sorry if I disappointed any of you with that, but it just doesn't go along with my story line D: I hope I didn't lose any readers because of that :z**

**I've noticed that I don't communicate with my reviewers as much as I really should. :z Some other stories I read have shout-outs and stuff to their reviewers and I'm just kind of here like... hi ._. I'd really like to respond to everyone and all that but it would make my A/N's so painfully long and unf D: but I don't want you thinking I'm ignoring you! I try to reply to any questions you have as best I can. Sorry if I seem so distant!**

**Okay, I'll shut up now so you can read. I'm so glad you're all still with me! Enjoy :)**

**xoxo ~ml**

* * *

**Chapter Eight - Saving More Lives Than One**

Buttercup awoke the next morning to the sound of her cell phone alarm blaring obnoxiously in her ears. Since when had she set that alarm? She allowed her mouth to stretch into a giant, gaping O as she yawned, stretching her arms out to either side and hearing the refreshing **pop**! of her joints. She rolled lazily over and tapped off her alarm, burying her face in her pillow again. The pillow smelled strange and unfamiliar, and it took her a moment to recall where she was. She opened her eyes completely to find herself in an alien, unrecognizable room with high ceilings and tacky floral wallpaper. She pulled herself into a sitting position on the bed and glanced around the room. The bed she sat on was a large queen with gold-and-white comforter and sheets. There were twice as many pillows than she had at home, and all of them were ten times as soft. Next to the bed was a small nightstand with a gold-shaded lamp atop it. The table was also adorned with a stack of tiny square coasters and an empty crystal glass, which she assumed was for water. At the opposite end of the room there was a white desk, and her green laptop had been placed on top of it in perfect position. A few of her other belongings had been set up carefully on the shelves of the desk, including her hairbrush, her iPod and headphones, a few of her band bracelets and her small shoulder-bag which contained her wallet and such. She raised her eyebrows then, quite impressed with whoever had emptied out her luggage the day before, for they certainly had outdone themselves with placing everything in its place. Although she wasn't too sure how she felt about random strangers handling her personal stuff.

She flopped back down onto the pillows and closed her eyes. Last night's amazing sleep simply refused to leave her mind as she inhaled deeply. All her energy was trapped somewhere deep in her body, refusing to show itself. Buttercup was by no means a morning person. And she was usually such a heavy sleeper, she could sleep right through one of her 'younger' sister's sonic screams on any given day. Since she couldn't fall back asleep, she allowed her mind to wander back to the previous evening.

To say she was surprised that the RowdyRuff Boys were Mr. Johnson's sons was an understatement. She was infuriated. Just thinking about the idea that those three might be the cause of her downfall in the recording industry made her want to punch something. Buttercup rolled over onto her side and hugged her knees. She'd finally gotten the break she'd always dreamed about, and her supporter was the father of her worst enemies. Talk about a small, cruel world. The boys hadn't changed a bit. Well, they hadn't changed much—except for the fact that they were all grown up and _sexy_.

No sooner had that thought crossed her mind did she shudder outwardly and shake her head. What was she talking about? These were the RowdyRuff Boys. Her enemies. The ones she used to enjoy beating to a pulp when she was younger. Hell, she'd probably still enjoy it. On the outside, it was hard to believe that these were even the same boys. Brick and Boomer sure cleaned up nicely, considering they were dirty perverts, in Buttercup's opinion. Butch, on the other hand, hadn't even had the decency to dress up. At least he had made the decision to wear a shirt. Buttercup didn't think even she could handle the added pressure of those muscles staring her in the face while she was trying her hardest to hate him.

While his brothers may have cleaned up nice, they still didn't know how to act like gentlemen. Far from it, in fact. Brick and Boomer couldn't tear their perverted eyes away from Blossom and Bubbles. Buttercup had to hold onto the edge of the table to keep herself from lunging at Boomer each time he dropped his napkin to steal a glance at her 'below the waist'. And the light blue mini skirt Bubbles had chosen for that particular night, Buttercup thought with a scowl, hadn't exactly helped. Luckily for Blossom and Bubbles, they would only be forced to deal with the boys' immaturity for a matter of a few hours. But Buttercup was living under the same roof as they were, even now as she lay in bed with a pillow over her face.

She couldn't believe her insane luck. But if she was ever going to be a famous singer, she was going to have to suck up her pure hatred for those boys—especially Butch, now that he'd virtually _flattered_ her and made her actually _feel_ something for once.

Buttercup scowled as she recalled a few nights ago, when she'd encountered Butch at work. She hated the way he had hit on her, and the way he stared into her eyes and sent shivers down her spine. No matter how hard she tried to control it, she couldn't suppress the tremors that shook her body. Why did that keep happening? His stares would purposefully bore into her face as if he could see into her soul...

It have her chills even now, just thinking about it. She groaned and flipped over onto her back again. Now that his deep emerald eyes were in her mind, she couldn't get them out. Goddamnit. Fucking Butch, why did he have to flirt with her, leaving her confused and even more angry then before? All she wanted to do was punch his fucking lights out... But at the same time, she imagined herself wrapped in his strong, capable arms, resting her head against his broad, sturdy chest...

Okay, no. What? What the fuck was she even thinking? She couldn't be having these thoughts. It was stupid; completely irrational. And she needed it to stop before she smothered herself in the quilt right then and there.

Maybe she should call Liam later and talk to him about this. Probably just stupid teenage hormones making her act like a bitch again. Fuck.

Yawning again, she finally threw off the covers and lifted herself out of the bed, shuffling over to a door on the side of the room. She swung it open, revealing a large walk-in closet with probably about six trillion hooks and shelves. She couldn't resist whistling low once she realized exactly how much space it was her own clothes took up. Barely a quarter of the closet was occupied by a splash of black, grey and green clothing, the rest completely empty and tidy.

She hadn't thought to check the time, and she shuffled back into the main bedroom in search for a clock. When she spotted a large analog directly above her desk, she stared at it for a few moments, trying to remember how to read one of those. When she was almost positive the clock read '7:13 AM', she shuffled back into the closet, her heart set on going out for a jog.

Buttercup put on her favourite pair of black yoga shorts and her lime green sports bra. She normally wouldn't have been comfortable going out with her midsection bare, but she had a generally flat tummy and she didn't expect to see anyone too important this early in the morning anyways.

She located her six pairs of converse at the base of the large closet, each pair neatly stacked onto the shelf on display. She snatched her green ones (which she favoured above the rest for obvious reasons) and pulled them onto her feet.

After visiting her bathroom to brush her teeth and wash her face, she pulled her shoulder-length hair into the best ponytail she could manage and snatched her iPod off the desk, shoving the earbuds in her ears.

Buttercup opened the door to the hall slowly, making sure nobody was in sight before sneaking out and closing it behind her. She tiptoed down the stairs and tried to remember how to get to the front door from there.

Turning around to make sure she wasn't seen, she backed towards the door as silently as she could.

"Don't think you're escaping that easily," a gruff voice said behind her back, startling her and causing her to jump eight feet in the air. She whirled around to find herself staring into a pair of mystic green eyes. She shuddered again. Dammit.

Butch had woken up with a crick in his neck and a scowl on his face. The first thing he'd done was check his text messages—he and Rebecca had had a huge fight the night before, and the morning after their fights she would always send him this big long message saying how sorry she was and how much she loved him. But he was surprised to see that he only had one, short message from his girlfriend that morning.

'_ive had enough of this. im done._'

He blinked the sleep out of his eyes and yawned largely, stretching his arms out to either side of his body. What did Rebecca mean when she said she was done? They'd gotten in fights before—plenty of times. But none were enough to really drive either of them over the edge. The way Butch thought about it, he figured that a good argument was healthy in a relationship every once in a while, so he didn't really think twice much about it. But this was really uncharacteristic of her.

Maybe he shouldn't dwell on it too much, he thought. Rebecca was just being her crazy, psychotic self and she'd be back in his arms after the morning.

In the meantime, he could really use a shower. He snatched a towel from the rack in the bathroom he and his brothers shared and hopped into the shower, allowing the hot water to run down his body and soothe him. When he got out of the shower, it was too hot for clothes, so he threw on a pair of sweatpants and towel-dried his hair. It was still a bit damp, however, when he remembered his 'guest'.

Buttercup was still in his house. Doing who knows what. He decided to sneak out into the sitting room for some early morning television, maybe some good old Saturday morning cartoons, when he heard a faint noise. It sounded like the creak of the floorboards, right on that faulty stair on the staircase.

She was trying to sneak out. Ha. Who did she think she was kidding? She couldn't back out now, the deal was as good as sealed. She wasn't going anywhere.

He noticed Buttercup heading towards the door so he made a point of beating her there. He leaned back against the door and arched an eyebrow as she sneaked slowly into the front room, her back to him.

"Don't think you're escaping that easily," he smirked. She whirled around and met his eyes, the usual shudder rippling visibly down her spine. This made him grin even wider and even let out a small laugh.

He eyed her from head to toe shamelessly, figuring that if she was going to stay here for who knows how long he might as well make the best of things. He noted her outfit—if you could call it that. She was barely even dressed. A tight lime green sports bra hugged her chest and accented her toned stomach, and the short black yoga shorts revealed just enough of her legs to send him into cardiac arrest...

She noticed him looking at her and scoffed disbelievingly, crossing her arms over her chest in attempt at modesty. But the only thing it really did was push her breasts up and make them look ten times bigger than before.

She was so feisty, and he hated her so much; but he couldn't resist the thoughts that trickled through his mind at that moment...

Butch smirked and leaned up against the door, blocking her exit. His hair was flat and damp, giving Buttercup the notion that he'd only just gotten out of the shower. He had nothing but a pair of sweatpants on and Buttercup was trying as hard as she possibly could to avert her eye. But between his perfect washboard abs, his softball-sized biceps and his piercing green eyes, she didn't really have anywhere else to look.

"Why do you keep doing that?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Doing what?"

"You know." he widened his gaze inching towards her the tiniest bit, and she shuddered yet again. "_That_."

She ripped her eyes away from his and tried to shove him out of the way, but he wouldn't budge.

"Are you afraid of me?" he inquired curiously. Buttercup couldn't help it that time. She scoffed loudly.

"No way in hell," she hissed, still trying to push him away from the door. He simply watched her with an amused look, not even fighting to keep his place in front of the door. "Get the fuck out of my way before I do it for you."

He chuckled. "Doesn't seem like you're having much luck with that now, does it?"

She quietly cried out in anger and disgust, giving him one final shove. He purposely stepped out of her way and she forced the door open, slamming it loudly behind her before he could get a word in edgewise.

Butch smirked, the image of her flat, bare stomach burning holes in his mind. He tried to keep it innocent as he shook his head and opened the door to go after her, only to collide face-first with the raven-haired girl as she reentered the home.

Buttercup rubbed her forehead where his chin had come in contact with it, glaring as threateningly as she possibly could at the boy before her.

"Couldn't wait to see me again, eh, Butters?" he said with a smirk, merely patting his own chin and leaning back against the door again. Buttercup scowled deeply.

"In your fucking dreams," she snapped back. "I forgot my arm band." She was referring to the band that strapped comfortably around her upper arm, offering a place for her to safely house her iPod as she jogged. She shot a look back over her shoulder at Butch before she darted back upstairs to retrieve the item. She could only hope that Butch would be gone by the time she returned.

Of course, she had no such luck, however, for when she arrived back at the door moments later, Butch had magically changed into a pair of black basketball shorts and a deep green cutoff. He grinned at her.

"Mind if I join you?" he asked slyly, opening the front door with a knowing glance towards Buttercup.

This time, Buttercup let herself stare. So what, he was wearing a shirt now, but that didn't prohibit her vision access to his glorious arms and handle-less sides of his perfectly carved hips.

"Yes," she responded indignantly to his question, folding her arms across her chest and planting her feet firmly in their spot. She wasn't going out that door, and there was no way he could make her.

Butch smiled widely. "Great!" he said, obviously not understanding that Buttercup really _did _mind if he joined her. "I've been needing to blow off some steam, anyways."

Buttercup rolled her eyes. What could this idiot _possibly_ have going on that he needed to 'blow off steam'? She decided that she was never going to get a chance to run if she didn't hustle out of there soon, so she sighed in defeat and waved her arm at the raven-haired boy before her.

"Fine," she muttered indifferently, stepping outside into the crisp morning air. "But keep your distance, and don't you _dare_ try and talk to me."

Butch blinked, fake innocence apparent on his face. "Hey, we live together now, don't we?" he pointed out as he shut the door behind them. "We should at least try and get along!"

Buttercup ignored him and began to pick up her pace as she reached the sidewalk. Butch watched her jog down the street for a few seconds before smirking to himself and jogging after her, making sure to stay at least a few metres behind at all times.

It really was a treat for Butch, for he got to stare at her butt the entire time as she jogged, and every few minutes she would glance backwards to check if he was still following her. Each time she did, he waved and she rolled her eyes, turned up the volume on her iPod and picked up her pace, attempting to get farther away. But he kept right on her trail, no more than a house's length behind her at all times.

After about a mile or so of this jogging in silence, Butch saw Buttercup take her iPod out of its pocket on her arm and start to mess with it. She slowed down just a bit and he heard her muttering to herself, obviously irritated by the performance of the device. It got to the point where Buttercup was going so slow that Butch could be walking and he'd still be at her pace. So he walked behind her, observing as she distractedly walked towards an intersection.

Butch couldn't help but grin when he saw that the light she approached was indeed red, not green, and she would have to look up sometime soon or get swallowed up by oncoming traffic. He felt this swell of energy when Buttercup continued to walk painfully slow, stepping off the sidewalk and into the intersection. It was actually somewhat of a shocker that Buttercup wasn't hit immediately as she walked out into open traffic like that. There were cars blaring their horns at her, trying to avoid her as she openly waltzed out in front of them, but she had her earbuds lodged in her ears and was completely cut off from the world. She wouldn't have noticed if a semi truck hit her at that moment.

Which is why Butch found the situation to be so hilarious. He smirked at the corner of the intersection as his counterpart obliviously put herself in the line of danger.

But he noticed something else, too. Something else he'd imagined but hadn't thought probable. A semi truck _was_ driving towards her at that moment. He rolled his eyes at the irony. What the fuck, really. He watched it rumble down the street, the driver blaring its horn at Buttercup, who was still as clueless as ever.

Butch found himself willing it to hit her. He prayed it smacked her head-on and flattened her into a pale green-and-black pancake in the middle of the street. He eagerly watched the truck barrel down the street, flying towards her at top speed. It was a few mere metres from her now, it was going to hit her~!

But then at the last possible second, he remembered his father's words from the day before. _"I want you boys on your best behaviour._" Yeah, okay; so watching Buttercup get flattened by a semi wasn't exactly considered 'behaviour', but he figured he'd still feel pretty guilty if he had to explain this to his father. He sighed and using his super speed, darted into the intersection and scooped Buttercup off the ground, carrying her bridal-style to the other side of the street and setting her down indifferently. Before she had a chance to register what happened, he was ten paces ahead of her in the opposite direction.

He acted as if nothing happened, casually jogging away while she looked on in shock and utter confusion. She pulled one of her earbuds out of her ear and stared after her counterpart, who didn't even glance backwards as he jogged almost a block ahead of her.

Sure, she thought as she shook her head and jogged to catch up, if she had gotten hit by that truck it probably wouldn't have hurt her much. Just a few scratches here and there, maybe a bruise or two. There was really no need for him to jump out and save her like that. What was he planning, what was he trying to do by testing her like this?

After a quick shower and a soggy bowl of cereal for breakfast, Buttercup was informed that later that night she would begin recording, and Mr. Johnson—well, Erik to her, now—wanted her to choose her favourite song to sing.

"I want you to pick something classy, but not too slow," he instructed. "Something the young people will like, but keep it appropriate. If you need help choosing a song, Boomer's got tons of CDs up in his room."

As Erik said this, Boomer nodded his head eagerly and Brick smacked him upside the head. But Buttercup didn't need the help of a CD to choose her song. She instantly knew what song she wanted to sing. As soon as the Ruffs were out of her way (seeing as the blue and red ones had been following her around and eyeing her suspiciously all day), she escaped back to her room and searched the Internet on her laptop for an acoustic version of her favourite song. When at last she found one, she burned it onto a blank CD (after illegally downloading it off the Internet, she won't lie) and decided to download it as her ringtone for her new iPhone.

After that, she turned the original version on her iPod and put the headphones into her ears, falling back on the unfamiliar bed. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, allowing the song to send shivers down her spine. This was the song she wanted to sing for her first recording. There was no doubt. Who needed drugs when this song made her feel so high? She inhaled again, deeper this time, sinking lower into the bed until she could almost feel herself flying...

She looked like she really _was _high. Which is why Butch was so, well, _un_concerned when he walked by her room to see her in a trance on her bed as he was talking to Rebecca on the phone. He stopped short and popped his head through the doorway. Rebecca screamed at him on the other line, trying to get a response out of him, but instead of saying anything Butch hung up his phone without a word and leaned against the doorframe, studying the PowerPuff that lay now on his guest bed.

She had changed into more casual attire from before, a pair of slim-fitting black capris and a baggy gray t-shirt with the words '_Originality is Dead_' printed in lime green on the front. He watched the rise and fall of her chest as she breathed deeply, her mouth moving in synch with words to a song he could not hear. He never realized how peaceful a person he hated so much could be... He always considered this as a two-way affair: He hated her, and she hated him. But there was a lot more to this girl than met the eye. For one, there was her singing, which was enough to mystify anyone with working ears. And she had a sensitive side, too...

But sensitive side or not, Butch knew that Buttercup would probably murder him if she saw him watching her like this. So he shifted his weight off the doorframe as slowly as he could, trying not to call attention to himself.

But just as he was moving, the raven-haired girl's eyes flew open and she bolted upright on the bed, staring at him with wide, questioning eyes. He couldn't exactly nip out of the doorway, because she'd already seen him and he would look like a complete idiot. So, he decided to play it cool and pretend like he had some purpose when she pulled her earbuds out of her ears and asked him what he was doing in her room.

"Uh, my dad wants to know if you've chosen a song for your recording yet," he lied through his teeth, shoving his hand into his pocket and resting the other against the door. He stared her down, but she wouldn't meet his gaze.

"Yeah," she responded quietly, putting her earbud back in her ear. "I'm ready when he is."

Butch nodded slowly, slightly upset that this conversation was now over. Although he wasn't sure why. Something about Buttercup was making him uneasy. He was just about to turn and leave when he saw what was sitting on the desk in the room.

"Whoa," he mumbled, whistling low and entering the room. "You have the iPhone 4S? This thing is sweet!" he picked it up and turned it over in his hands. In a flash, Buttercup was at his side and the device had disappeared from his grasp.

"Don't. Touch it." Buttercup grit her teeth and a low growl escaped her lips as she glared at him. He wanted to laugh, but he wasn't sure how she would react to that, so he just shrugged and asked how she liked it. The question was posed so casually, so leniently, that Buttercup was caught off-guard for a second. She quickly regained her composure, however, and folded her arms across her chest, trapping the device in the very crevice of her arm.

"It's alright," she replied.

"You have Siri?" **[1]**

She blinked again at Butch's friendliness. What was he plotting against her? She didn't trust him. And she still wouldn't look him in the eye.

"Yeah."

He smirked. "Man, if I had Siri, I'd make her my _bitch._ I'd be like, 'Siri, make me a sandwich.' And she'd say something funny or something and it'd be hilarious..."

Butch was cracking up at his own joke. And it wasn't even that funny. She stared at him and his laughter died down. This situation was getting more awkward by the second.

Butch cleared his throat and looked away, wringing his hands. Damn, why was it so hard to talk to her? So, they were sworn enemies, so what? That could change! He hardly even did anything evil anymore! Why couldn't she just hold a freaking conversation with him? For five seconds? She deadpanned every time he said a word. It was like she didn't care either way. Okay, so she probably didn't, but still, you'd think that being the good one she'd try and make _some_ form of conversation.

Butch decided to try one more time.

"Uh, so you ready to record?" he asked, trying again to meet her eyes. She turned completely around and started fumbling with her phone—a double rejection.

"I already told you I was," she replied flatly.

That did it. Butch had it with her attitude. He grabbed her by the unsuspecting shoulders and spun her around to face him, forcing her to look him in the eye. As expected, the now familiar shudder came, accompanied by her surprised and hostile shrugging-off of his hands.

"What the fuck is your problem?" he asked her before she could interrogate him with a similar question. "You're still holding that stupid grudge from when we were five? Bull shit, Buttercup, nobody holds a grudge that long. You can't stay mad at me forever, especially since we have to live together now! You'd better quit it with the whole 'innocent superheroine' act soon or I'll knock you in the throat so hard, your vocal cords will cease to work. Got that?"

He was now standing very close to her, his red, angry face emanating heat that she could feel from all over his body. Her eyes didn't stare into his, for she tried desperately not to look into them. She knew that if she did, she'd collapse.

Wait a second, a pair of eyes couldn't possibly be her weakness. They couldn't be enough to destroy her completely... could they? She decided to test her theory by risking her own safety. She allowed her gaze to trail back up to meet his eyes. He was so close, she could feel his threatening breath on her face. But she didn't flinch. She didn't even shudder, hardly. It took her a moment to remember that he was pissed at her, and once getting over the initial shock had passed, she bit back fiercely with a retort.

"Yeah, okay, genius, I'm so sure you're the boss of the world now, aren't you?" Okay, so it wasn't her _best_ argument. But at least she had something to say. "You can't just tell me how to act. And I don't have to talk to you if I don't want to. You can't make me."

He blinked but didn't back up. He'd thought of something. "You're talking to me right now."

Buttercup's eyes went wide and she put her hands on his chest, shoving him quickly away from her in complete and utter disgust. "N-No I'm not!" she snapped, backing away and walking around her bed to fetch the CD she'd burned earlier. "And this isn't even talking, this is me telling you to get the fuck out of here before I kick you so hard in the balls, your grandchildren will feel it."

He almost laughed, she was so feisty. He wanted to bite back—no—_longed_ to bite back, but he daren't, should she go completely psycho on him and tear him a new one. So he shrugged, and with a "Suit yourself, Butters," for a dismissal, took his leave as quickly as he'd came.

Buttercup, staring after him with the CD in her hand and one leg still twitching to kick her counterpart, sighed heavily and instead kicked the bedpost, forming a decent foot-sized hole in the wood. She decided that she'd better get this recording over with while she still felt good—if you could call it that, considering Butch had just completely ruined her day.

She put down her iPod on the desk and took the CD downstairs to the small studio to start her recording.

* * *

The strumming of the unfamiliar guitar was foreign in Buttercup's ears. She hated this stupid studio immediately. She missed Liam. She sighed as her new recording director, Mark, spoke to her through the microphone on the other side of the glass.

"What's going on in there, Buttercup?" he asked.

Buttercup carefully rubbed her eyes and ran a hand through her medium-length raven locks. Her hair was scraggly and her make-up was no longer even on her face. She blew raspberries as she let out her breath and met Mark's chocolate brown eyes through the glass.

"I'm just not feeling it," Buttercup scowled into her mic.

Now it was Mark's turn to sigh. He lifted the black fedora off his head and scratched the back his frizzy brown hair. He was about thirty years old, and he looked really good for his age. He had high cheekbones and a killer smile. The red _Mayday Parade_ t-shirt he wore set off the deep sensuality of his copper eyes.

"Just take five, then," he instructed her, flipping off the background acoustics and switching the '**RECORDING IN SESSION**' light off.

Buttercup nodded gratefully, pulling the headphones around her neck and exiting the room. She opened the back door and took a few deep breaths of the fresh evening air, leaning against the outside wall. Why couldn't she summon her aura? She loved this song, it was her first recording. Sure, she was nervous, a little, but this wasn't any different than karaoke at the bar... So why was it so hard for her to sing?

She decided she knew exactly what she needed. She ran upstairs to fetch her phone, dialing Liam's number as soon as it was in her hand. The phone rang twice before he picked up.

"Hello?"

At the sound of her best friend's voice, Buttercup sank to her bed and fell backwards.

"Liam."

"Buttercup? Hey! Your dad got you a cell finally?"

Buttercup nodded distractedly. "Yeah, I gotta talk to you."

Liam was all ears. "Lay it on me."

Although she was only initially planning on telling him the gist of her problem, she found herself gushing everything out to him all of a sudden, from the stupid soaps in the bathroom to the happenings on her jog that morning. Liam, as usual, listened intently without saying a word until the very end, when Buttercup was sitting upright in her bed, ripping the seams out of her pillow angrily.

"Glad to hear you're having fun," Liam said jokingly, attempting to lighten her mood.

She rolled her eyes. "I'm miserable here, she replied truthfully. "The guys are annoying as fuck, I get no privacy, and now I can't even sing right! What's wrong with me?"

Liam was silent for a moment. When he spoke up, his voice was cautious and careful. "Maybe you just need an audience."

"An audience?" Buttercup repeated, surprised. "What do you mean?"

"Well," he hummed, "You're used to performing in front of people, right?" she nodded, and even though he couldn't see the gesture, he assumed she'd agreed. "Well, maybe you just need somebody to watch you and cheer you on, you know, like a performance. You always said how it chilled you out before going on."

This was true. Buttercup did feel so much less uneasy with a crowd watching her and listening to her. It was weird, seeing as most people were the opposite, but Buttercup just needed onlookers to make her confident.

"But there's nobody here," she complained. "Nobody but..." she wouldn't finish. She couldn't. It reminded her of that last night at the bar, when she'd looked right into Butch's eyes...

"Sometimes you just have to be willing to make those sacrifices, BC," he said plainly. There was a voice in the background and he groaned. "Hey, I gotta go. My sister's trying to help me pack for college and she's screwing everything up. I'll call you tomorrow, okay?"

"Alright," she whispered. "Thanks, Li."

He smiled into his phone. "No problem, just remember. You're always a star to me."

A small half-smile trickled onto Buttercup's lips. If he'd been there with her, she would have hugged him. Good thing he wasn't.

After hanging up with Liam, she sighed heavily. She knew what she had to do as she re-entered the studio. Liam was right. She had to be willing to do whatever it takes.

* * *

"_And I don't want the world to see me,_

_Cuz I don't think that they'd understand._

_When everything's made to be broken,_

_I just want you to know who I am.._."

The soft strum of the acoustic echoed in her ears. She placed a hand on the side of her head just over the headphone and allowed her face to come close in contact with the mic. She closed her eyes, repeating the last line with extravagant emphasis and feeling, holding it and sending the note into a little dip before closing it off as the music slowed to a stop.

The very second she opened her eyes, she was met with Mark's sparkling bronze ones as he smiled brighter than the sun. She couldn't help it—she half-smiled back at him, pulling the headphones back down around her neck as he applauded loudly.

"Great job, Buttercup! You were wonderful! Excellent! That's definitely a wrap."

The other 'audience' members, however, couldn't be spoken for in the same manner.

Buttercup's eyes trailed over the other four occupants of the recording booth, all of whom had different expressions on their faces. Erik was nodding excitedly, even offering a few claps of his own hands. Brick was leaned back against the wall in the corner, a book in his hands with his eyes glued to the pages, paying no attention at all to her. Boomer was sitting cross-legged on the floor, his head nodding into his chest, clearly completely bored with her performance as well. Buttercup simply smirked at this, remembering the exact opposite reaction those two had had only the other night.

But there was another essence in the room she wasn't sure she dared look at. She suddenly became nervous, despite herself. Would Butch have the same expression as his brothers? Or would he react differently? She forced her eyes to focus on the other corner of the room. Butch wasn't even looking at her. He was glaring threateningly at his father, who still clapped enthusiastically for Buttercup. His head was lowered and his eyes narrowed, completely disregarding Buttercup, who had just finished singing her soul out in the studio.

Her heart sank. She knew she shouldn't have expected anything other than that from suck a jerk. She ripped the headphones off her neck with a scowl and slammed the door to the studio as she dashed out, not wanting them to see the look of utter fury on her face.

Why shouldn't they have liked it? Even if she only brought them into the studio because she needed an audience, they should have been a bit more... responsive. At least. Shouldn't they? Who did they think they were, being bored and _falling asleep, _for god's sakes during her performance? She thought she'd been pretty freaking sweet. Apparently that wasn't enough for those bastards. Oh well, though. It didn't matter to her. She didn't need their opinion, anyways. She didn't need any of them.

* * *

**[1] if you all people don't know what Siri is, google it. Because that's just sad, okay**_**. **_

_Your reviews will bring Liam back next chapter._

_Maybe_ ;)


	9. He Likes Motorcycles

**Title: Under a Harlequin Spotlight**

**Chapter Nine Title: He Likes Motorcycles  
**

**Rating: T**

**Pairing: Butch x Buttercup**

**Summary: "What do you like in a guy?" "How should I know?" "Just think about it. What comes to mind when I say 'boyfriend' or 'love?" "Uh...dark hair, I guess. I like dark hair. And abs. Like a god. He has to be strong, strong enough to fight me."**

**A/N: Sorry this wasn't up yesterday. I pulled an all-nighter just to get it finished, and it took forever! But it's finally done now, so yay!**

**Good news, also for you: I'm extending the September Monthly Contest deadline! I know you're all so super happy. I realize that it's not exactly the easiest thing in the world to work on FF when school's coming back into the swing of things, so I decided to extend the deadline from ****September 18th**** to ****September 30th****. That way I'll hopefully get a few more entries and you'll have more time to work. If you haven't had a chance to check out this month's contest, the information is on my profile! This month's word is SCHOOL, for obvious reasons!**

**Now for words about this chapter. It's terribly tedious, I'm sorry about that. But Liam's back! :D And if you're wondering what happened to the other girls, they'll be back soon too, don't worry! I'll have all questions answered in the next few chapters.**

**Enjoy!**

**xoxo ~ml**

* * *

**Chapter Nine: He Likes Motorcycles  
**

"No, Becky… I know. Yes, I know, I know. Yeah… Beck—Becky. Becky…"

Butch sighed and buried his head in his free hand. His other hand clutched his cell phone, pressing it tightly to his ear. He didn't have time for this. He couldn't handle it right now. First of all, his brothers were downstairs watching a horror movie marathon and he was _missing it_. He never missed a chance to see some good old guts and gore. Buttercup was over in her room, probably sulking about yesterday. Butch had heard her sing, that was for certain—no, scratch that. He'd been enlightened by it. If Buttercup's voice were a religion, he'd have to succumb immediately or die in the process. But he couldn't possibly have her knowing that. So he'd hidden his feelings. What made it ten times worse was the fact that his father was playing the huge fan when he was only in it for the money. He saw Buttercup as a potential maker of millions for his company, and that was the only reason for his excitement. When Butch had seen his father cheering heartily for the singing girl, he glared intensely at him, pissed that his father would do something so low. How could he take advantage of such a great talent? Although the more he thought about it, the more sense it made. His father was never a particularly sentimental man. He was always looking for a deal, a break, something to make his company grow. Here was potential, and he seized it by the horns. Still, Butch was angry that he'd stooped so low. But his father's actual drive in this process was another story altogether.

He and Rebecca were fighting. Again. Well, if you could call it fighting anyways. Rebecca was really just shouting at him for stupid things he'd done—and he couldn't blame her. He'd done countless stupid things. It was all part of what made him unique. He was Butch Jojo, 'Doer of Stupid Things'. If Rebecca couldn't see that, then this relationship wasn't doing much for either of them.

To be completely honest, Butch had been planning to break the ties with Rebecca for quite some time now, even before he'd heard Buttercup sing that night at the bar. But something made him put it off. Maybe it was the fact that he didn't want to be alone. If there was one thing in the whole world that Butch was afraid of, it was being alone. Call it reverse claustrophobia, in a way. There had to be someone—anyone—else there, or he'd freak out. And when he'd lost Rebecca, there was no one. Not even his brothers could be there for him like he needed them to be. It was hard to explain, but even harder to think about. He shook his head again as the sound of his girlfriend's shrill voice filtered back into his hearing.

"Look, Rebecca, would you just fucking listen to me for once?" He called her Rebecca when he was irritated or angry. It usually shut her up. She took a deep breath to calm herself and huffed into the phone.

"Yeah, what?"

"This isn't working out."

He didn't skip a beat. He knew it was the coldest and cruelest method in the book to break up with someone over the phone like that, but he knew he couldn't bear to do it in person. She'd probably lash out on him and he'd end up hurting her. Like, _seriously_ hurting her. Physically. Like his last girlfriend. Hospitalized for six weeks. Not a fun way to end a relationship.

Rebecca was shocked into silence, for once in her life. She gaped into her end of the phone, not knowing what to say. Butch was enjoying the silence. But even good things must end.

"You say that like we've been dating for two weeks, Butch," she accused. He could tell she was devastated. She wasn't expecting him to break it off with her this easily. But he was prepared for this. He calmly received everything she threw at him. "This is an entire relationship. You can't possibly mean it… you'll be changing your mind in a few days. You need me more than I need you!"

"That may be so, Becky," he admitted, "But lately I just can't handle this shit anymore."

Butch let her rant for another few minutes before telling her that he had to get going and hanging up the phone without their usual signoff—the typical 'I love you' gushy shit. He realized that he wasn't exactly sure what good his relationship was doing for him in the first place. Besides the 'messing around', which was atypically the best part in his eyes, there was nothing that really drove him to her. Nothing that clicked. No spark. Nothing.

He threw his phone down on his bed forcibly. Why did he always let this happen? Maybe he just wasn't cut out for the whole 'lasting relationship' thing. After all, his longest relationship ever had just ended over the phone. And he felt nothing. Nothing at all after six months. Countless kisses, embraces, caresses from this girl and he didn't regret leaving her. At least not yet he didn't. He felt like maybe he would, in a few days or so, but so far, not a single regret crossed his mind.

Perhaps it was his cold heart that kept him from feeling for Rebecca. Perhaps it was the fact that he couldn't feel, he was so hollow and empty. Perhaps he was incapable of feeling love.

* * *

The day after a recording was always tough. Once you got through the night, after tossing and turning restlessly in bed for a good seven hours, recollecting the events of the day that made you so confused and hurt and excited and angry and helpless all at once, the next day was impossible.

At least, that's how Buttercup experienced it.

She wandered aimlessly down the hallway, not quite sure what to do with herself now that her first recording was finished. Erik had said it was in the process of being burned onto hard drives, CDs, mix tapes and iTunes accounts, in preparation to be sent out to the managers of other record companies, radio stations and the like to alert them of Waterlight's new asset. Buttercup was completely fine with that, and she even grudgingly allowed the cover artists to snap a relatively modest-looking picture of her for the front of the albums. She truly felt famous already, and she wasn't even known yet. She made sure to have Erik send out a copy of her song to her family back in Townsville. She thought it odd that the Professor had yet to call her after she'd been living away from him for nearly three days. She wondered numbly what was up, but she didn't put too much thought into it. He wouldn't want her to worry, she was certain.

So instead, she tried to make herself useful somehow by searching for something to busy herself with. Maybe she'd run into someone who'd want to talk to her, or ask her something. But she met no one. Down the hall to the left, she overheard Butch quarreling loudly with someone, no doubt his girlfriend. She didn't want to get too involved, considering he hated her enough, so she about-faced and headed down the stairs to see what everyone else was up to.

The other boys hadn't exactly taken kindly towards her, but they weren't as hostile as they had been before. They were tolerant of her. So when she found them lounging on the couch in the sitting room, Boomer gripping a pillow for dear life as they watched some cheesy horror film, she was half-tempted to go and join them. But she could think of probably a million cons that outweighed the pros, so she nixed the idea and went to stand out on the front porch, where the afternoon air was warm on her face.

A plump house cleaner from the kitchen spotted her out there on the porch and opened the door a crack, addressing her warmly.

"Do you want to take out a car, miss?"

Buttercup blinked. Take out a car?

"Am I allowed to do that?" she asked hesitantly, unsure.

The woman nodded. "If you want to take out a car, you may, just be back before dark is the rule."

Buttercup was ecstatic. She had been extremely upset when she had to leave her own car behind for the use of her sisters. Now she was being allowed to take out a car that wasn't even hers? And the rules were so simplistic, too. Be back before dark, she could do that. What time was it, two? Three? All she needed was a few hours.

She told the woman she wanted to take out a car.

Moments later, they were standing in front of an enormous four-car garage that was overflowing with cars. There was a heavy black, mystic looking Lincoln, a sleek blue jaguar with the top down, a bright orange Camaro with a black stripe down the center and—whoa. What was that? Buttercup slowly walked around the motorcycle, her fingertips grazing the handlebars delicately. It was sexy. It was strong. It was bold. She wanted it.

"That's Butch's," the woman informed her cautiously. "I wouldn't touch it if I were you."

Buttercup continued to caress the handlebars anyways. "I'm sure he won't mind if I take her for a little ride," she mumbled, fondling the clutch with her fingers. It was so smooth.

She pretended not to notice the woman's face drain. "Er, I really think you'd be better off driving one of the cars, miss."

Ignoring her again, Buttercup grinned, pulling her leg over the motorcycle and straddling it as if she was born to ride. She looked up at the woman. "I want to drive this one."

The woman had no choice but to agree. She nodded curtly and disappeared, only to return seconds later with a pair of keys clutched tightly in her hand.

"This was all your doing," she muttered half to herself. "If you get reprimanded, I had nothing to do with it." She handed Buttercup the keys and backed off, hands in the air as if to signify her disconnection.

Buttercup didn't understand what was so bad about her taking Butch's bike for a ride. It wasn't like she was going to crash it on purpose or anything. She wasn't that dumb. She snatched his helmet off the opposite handlebar and pulled it over her ears. It snapped into place below her chin. It smelled like him. She tried to ignore that last thought and revved its engine to life, grinning widely as she did so. A part of her wanted Butch to sense her using his property, to come outside and see her on his bike, just so she could ride off down the street with him furiously bolting on her tail, the all-too-familiar forest green streak trailing behind him…

But he didn't come, and she pulled out into the street and whipped past the houses on either side, heading straight for Townsville without looking back.

A few whimsical, exhilarating minutes later and she was standing at the front door of her best friend's house, her hair mussed up around her ears from the helmet. She didn't need to knock, she never did, she just walked right in, greeting the familiar place with great relief.

"Buttercup!" Liam's mother cried, hopping up from her seat in the living room. "What a splendid surprise, I wasn't expecting you!"

The short, salt-and-pepper-haired woman pulled Buttercup into a suffocating embrace, which she returned half-heartedly.

"Liam's up in his room, you can go right up there, you know." Mrs. Handson patted Buttercup's back gently and smiled a wide, bright smile. "He's got a friend up there with him right now, but I'm sure he'll be delighted to see you regardless."

Buttercup saw her right eye barely cast a wink at her before the woman disappeared into her kitchen. The puff thought nothing of it, though, and she tried to conceal her eagerness as she darted up the stairs to her best friend's room. Along the way, she was intercepted by Sofie, Liam's younger, thirteen-year-old sister. Short like her mother and terribly thin, the young girl had a spring in her step and a taunting look in her eye, in which way she resembled her older brother.

"I wouldn't go in there if I were you," Sofie warned in a singsong voice. Her bright grey eyes twinkled with laughter and a confused look crossed Buttercup's face.

"And why not?" she inquired of the girl, raising an eyebrow.

Sofie just grinned devilishly. "Liam's got a new _boyfriend_!"

Buttercup's eyebrows flew off her forehead. That was a new one. Her attention was drawn now.

"Really?"

Sofie nodded, a sly grin creeping across her face. "Mhmm," she hummed. "And they've been locked in his room for like two hours."

Buttercup suddenly wasn't as eager to open Liam's door as before. She glanced up at the closed door and back to Sofie. The younger girl just raised her eyebrows knowingly and skipped innocently off, humming to herself. _What a creepy girl, _Buttercup thought, facing the door once again. Should she knock? Should she leave? She decided that her emotions got the best of her and knocked her knuckles forcibly against the door. There was dead silence from the room, almost eerie in a way. It was quite some time before anything happened. She was just about to try knocking again when the door suddenly swung open, revealing a flustered-looking Liam. His caramel-coloured cheeks were flushed, his bright clear eyes shimmering as they focused in on her face in surprise.

"BC?" he said breathlessly. "Is that really you?"

Buttercup nodded slowly, trying to peer past his shoulder into the room, but he shifted his weight, blocking her view.

"Hell, it's really awesome that you're here," he breathed.

She raised her eyebrows. "Is it? Because you seemed pretty busy."

He bit his lip. "Er, yeah, well... I've got somebody I want you to meet." Liam stepped to the side of the doorway and gestured inside his room. Buttercup took a step into the room and looked immediately towards his bed, where she expected to see someone. Instead, the mysterious person revealed himself sitting at Liam's desk chair, facing her with a polite, casual wave.

The stranger was short looking, with short, light blonde ruffled hair and soft brown eyes. He had pink, rose-pinched cheeks and two cute dimples. Resting on his nose was a pair of crooked eyeglasses, with dark owl-rims.

"BC, this is Tyler," Liam said indignantly. "Ty, this is BC."

Tyler smiled warmly and stuck out his hand to her. "Nice to meet you, I've heard so much about the famous Buttercup Utonium."

Buttercup eyed his hand uneasily before hesitantly taking it in hers, shaking once, and letting go quickly. There was something about this guy she didn't trust. Though she was flattered that he'd heard of her. "Yeah, us PowerPuffs are pretty well-known."

His facial expression confused her. "What?"

Liam smacked his lips. "Tyler's new to Townsville," he explained. "He hasn't even heard of your sisters."

This surprised Buttercup. It wasn't often that she as introduced to someone who hadn't recognized her from saving the day. She nodded slowly. That meant she was famous to him because of Liam…?

"Who are the… um… PowderPuffs?" Tyler asked cutely, cocking his head to the side like a little innocent child towards Liam, who smiled gently.

"They're like our town's superheroes. You know, they save the day and all that. Not so much anymore though. They mostly just hang out now." Liam grinned at Buttercup. "Well, 'cept BC here. She sings."

Tyler turned his gaze on Buttercup now. "That's awesome," he complimented.

Buttercup shrugged. "Anyone can sing."

The blonde boy shook his head. "Not my mother. She's tone deaf. You should hear her in church!"

Buttercup wasn't sure what to make of that. Both boys were smiling like idiots, and she felt like she was missing out on some elephant in the room or an insider that she was unaware of. She didn't like the feeling. Luckily, though, the tension didn't last too much longer.

"Well, I should be getting back to my house and let you guys catch up," Tyler sighed, standing up and stretching a bit. "I'll see you tomorrow afternoon, Li."

The most awkward moment in Buttercup's life occurred right then. She turned away a split second too late as Tyler approached Liam and pecked him lightly on the lips. She tried to hide her obvious discomfort until she was sure he was gone, and then she turned back around to face her best friend. He was still smiling like an idiot, whatever blush he could have touching his cheeks just barely. Buttercup stared disbelievingly at him.

"So you have a fucking boyfriend now and you didn't even bother telling me on the phone?!" she shrieked. "I know you'd want me to tell you if I had a boyfriend!"

Liam instantly blinked out of his dazed trance. "Do you have a boyfriend?" he asked seriously. Buttercup rolled her eyes.

"Fuck no, I don't, but you do, and you didn't even tell me. Who are you to me anymore?"

He sighed and sank down onto his bed. Buttercup took her usual spot on his floor next to the bed, prepared for the story. "I was going to tell you when you called," he began slowly. "But you just had so much going on and I was so proud of you… I didn't think that with all of your boy drama you'd want to hear about my new relationship."

She gaped. "As stupid as that sounds, Li, you're right. I probably wouldn't have wanted to hear it."

He glared at her. "Well aren't you just the best friend ever?"

She shrugged and rolled onto her back on his floor, staring up at his ceiling. She'd failed to notice at first all of the packed bags and boxes scattered around the room. Now that Tyler was gone, though, she saw them clearly. Buttercup had almost forgotten that Liam was supposed to go away to college in the autumn. She was only starting her senior year. She hadn't given that much thought at all. What was it going to be like? How was she going to be in school with the recording and all? Would she head back to Pokey Oaks for the fall? Or would they teach her on the road, like Blossom had said? School just wouldn't be the same without Liam, anyways.

"How's the recording going?" he asked when she didn't reply to his sarcastic comment. She bit her tongue thoughtfully and decided to tell him exactly everything that had happened, and how Butch hadn't even looked at her, and how he was screaming at someone over the phone when she'd left this morning.

"Who was it?" he inquired.

"How should I know?" she scoffed. "I don't care about that shit."

He nodded thoughtfully again. "Well, it's awesome that your recording went so well. When do I get a copy of your CD?" he waggled his eyebrows at her playfully.

"They only just mailed them out today," she replied. "I sent one to you and one to my family."

"Sweet," he said. "You haven't heard from the Prof. yet?"

She shook her head. "Not yet. But he'll probably call soon. Unless he forgot my cell number that he only bought a few days ago."

Liam put up a hand in defeat. "I wouldn't be surprised, to be honest."

"Neither would I."

Liam laughed, but when Buttercup didn't join him, the joyful sound died down quickly. He cleared his throat nervously, and Buttercup somehow knew what was coming next. "What do you think of Tyler?"

Buttercup blinked. She knew Liam could tell when she was lying to him, but she couldn't risk saying no. So she nodded. "He's alright, I guess. For a gay guy."

He rolled his eyes. "He is!"

"How did it... you know, happen?" Buttercup asked her friend curiously. It wasn't like she cared about that kind of shit. She could care less if eloping was involved. She just knew he was expecting her to ask.

"Well, we've been friends for a while," he began. "He's supposed to be my roommate in the fall at ETU. I guess it just sort of… happened, I don't know. Don't ask me, BC, I don't know anything."

"For once."

"Shut up."

She stuck out her tongue at him, but he pretended not to notice. She knew that look he had on his face. It was the one he got whenever he was thinking about something mushy. She hated it.

"It's just so…magical, having someone for your very own, you know?" he mused, staring off in the distance like an ancient philosopher.

"He isn't your pet, Liam," Buttercup scoffed.

"Not like that," he groaned. "You know what I mean."

She shot upright into a sitting position and met his eyes. "No, actually, I don't know, thank you very much. And judging by the sappy pussy it's turned you into, I don't want to know."

"Aw, BC, don't be like that. You just wait until you find someone like that. You'll be humming a different tune."

"So, when I roll over in my grave, right?"

"Ugh, stop being so negative."

She lowered herself back onto her back and didn't look at him. She didn't want to. He wasn't the same person anymore. She decided she hated Tyler.

"We just need to find you a decent guy," he told her.

"'We' don't have to do anything," she sassed.

"I'm serious!"

"Me too."

"No, really, BC, if we just found you somebody, then maybe you wouldn't be so grumpy all the time."

She highly doubted that, but she took the bait. "How exactly do you plan to do that when the entire male population is fucking douche bag city?"

Liam thought about that for a minute. He needed to answer carefully, or his catch would swim away. "Well, what do you like in a guy?"

"How should I know?"

"Just think about it." He leaned forward on his elbows on the bed, watching her breathing steadily. "What sort of guy do you think of when I say the word 'boyfriend' to you?"

Expecting the worst, Buttercup decided to give his advice a try, despite her better judgment. She closed her eyes and sighed. An unwanted image trickled immediately into her mind when she thought about those words, but she quickly pushed it out.

"Uh, tall…" she lied. "Hot. Strong."

"No, you have to think harder than that," he pressed. "What does he look like? What kind of personality does he have? This will help, trust me."

Again, she didn't believe him, but she described her thoughts to humour him. "He's got dark hair I guess. I like dark hair. And… abs. Like a god. And a great smile… He has to be strong, strong enough to fight me."

"What's he like?"

"He likes… motorcycles," she blurted. "And video games. And working out, I guess."

"Is he nice?"

"…no, not really. Sort of grouchy. Really flirty. Stupid pickup lines… but he's funny…"

"What do you like best about him?" Liam pressed on, grinning now. He knew she was talking about someone in particular, and he was just waiting for her to reveal more about him. As he asked this latter, a light blush touched her cheeks and her lips twitched into a tiny smile, her eyes still shut tight.

"His… um… eyes." Buttercup didn't know what was even happening now. Once she got those eyes into her head, she couldn't stop. She realized that Liam was the one person she could talk about this with without becoming uncomfortable. She felt like she was talking more to herself than her best friend.

"What about them?"

The deep, endless green of his eyes filled her senses and she shuddered inadvertently. Of course, Liam saw this, and his mouth stretched into a wider grin. "They're so green… like a football field… or soccer…"

"Green's your favourite colour."

She opened an eyelid, meeting his curious wide blue eyes. "That's all you got out of this therapy session?" she scoffed. "My favourite colour?"

He rolled his eyes. "No," he snapped back. "I know exactly what's going on here."

"Yeah?" she knew what he was going to say, she just wasn't sure she was ready to hear it said out loud yet. It wasn't even true, really. She didn't like Butch. Not really. He was just the last one she'd thought of before Liam had asked her those questions, so naturally he was the one she answered about.

"You like Butch."

There it was. The sentence she'd been dreading to hear more than anything. "Fuck no."

He laughed out loud, a single jingling, testing note. "You're such a bad liar, BC."

She could feel her face growing hot. "I don't like him! I hate him!"

"You might think you hate him, but you don't really."

"He's got a girlfriend."

"Didn't we go over this already?"

"Go over what?"

"The girlfriend thing, with the Ferrari?"

Buttercup blinked. "Maybe."

"Do you think he likes you?" Liam pressed, jabbing her in the side.

"Liam, no, never, now drop it before I drop kick _you_." She sat up completely and buried her face in her hands with a groan. This was so ridiculous.

"Not even a little bit?" he singsonged.

"I swear I'll kill you," Buttercup threatened. "You gossip worse than a little fifth grade girl."

"Ha-ha," he laughed sarcastically. "You're a hopeless case, BC. You refuse to accept your feelings. That's why you're gonna be an old cat lady forever until you die a virgin."

"Oh, so this is about sex, is it?" she scowled, glaring at him. Liam's eyes went wide and he shook his head frantically.

"No—of course not, it isn't!" he protested. "I'm just saying—"

"You shouldn't be 'just saying' anything," she snapped, suddenly furious. "What gives you the right to tell me how to live my life?"

Liam was taken aback. It wasn't that he wasn't used to her freaking out like this, it's just that he didn't expect it to happen over something as mediocre as this. She was getting really defensive. "It's the truth, BC!" he said. "You're afraid to admit how you're really feeling about this guy and you literally just spent five minutes fantasizing about him!"

"That doesn't mean I like him!"

When Buttercup got mad, she said things that didn't make sense sometimes.

"Just calm down, okay? I didn't mean to offend you, I was just saying—"

"You don't need to 'just say' anything anymore, Liam." Her face was dark and she glared at him worse than she ever had before. He was almost frightened. She stood up then, not looking back at him as she walked right out of his room. He knew better than to chase after her. Let her breathe fire on Sofie, not him. She'd call when she'd cooled down a bit.

Buttercup stalked outside to Butch's motorcycle. It was barely even five o'clock. She hadn't been planning on leaving Liam's so early. Of course, she hadn't been planning on talking about such a ridiculous topic, either. She hopped onto the motorcycle, not even bothering to put his helmet over her head and kicked it into gear.

She flew down the street, at least fifteen over the speed limit, but she didn't care. She was too old to fly now, and although she still could, most of the time she was too lazy. Although she had enough energy now to destroy an entire monster family on her own, she had to return Butch's motorcycle before he murdered her. But maybe she deserved that. She wasn't sure why returning the bike was of such importance to her. Maybe it was because she wanted to make sure his father found her responsible, she thought to herself. But deep down, she knew that was a lie. She knew everything Liam had said was the truth. Oh, fuck Liam for having a perfect little relationship with that stupid Tyler kid. What the fuck was with him, anyways? Didn't he know those owl-rims went out of style in the 90's? Sheesh. Why did he get to steal her best friend from her and turn him into somebody she didn't even know anymore? She hated this stupid, gushy Liam. It made her sick to know that he was corrupted this way. A relationship shouldn't corrupt someone like that.

Butch would never corrupt _her_ like that.

What was she saying? Butch wouldn't corrupt her like that, that was for sure, because he'd never get a chance. Never. Because she hated him, really she did.

No matter how much his eyes haunted her.

* * *

"DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW MUCH THAT BIKE COST ME?!"

Everyone flinched back in horror and fear as Butch raged around the garage, jabbing his arm in the empty spot where his motorcycle would normally be. Everyone, that is, except for Buttercup, who smirked at his spazz attack as she revved his engine just to spite him as she pulled forward carefully. She jerked the clutch just a tad so the bike leapt forward threateningly, earning a yelp from Butch.

She hopped down from the bike, removing the helmet and whipping her hair around her face without her hands. He glared at her worse than any glare had ever been glared. She stood her ground, raising an eyebrow.

"Is there a problem?" she inquired of him, folding her arms across her chest.

"…YES, THERE IS A PROBLEM!" he shouted in her face. "YOU TOOK OUT MY MOTORCYCLE WITHOUT PERMISSION!"

"So?"

"…SO?!" he repeated, flabbergasted that she wasn't afraid of him.

"So, do something about it," she said quietly, testing him.

"ARGH!" he yelled, punching a gaping hole in the garage wall. The maid-woman from earlier cowered in the corner out of fear. "I fucking hate you so much; I just want to rip your fucking throat out!"

"Do it then," she challenged. The maid whimpered, but Buttercup and Butch ignored her. Buttercup took a step towards Butch with a challenging look in her eye. It was like walking fearlessly into the lions' den. She could tell Butch really wanted to attack her, but he didn't, for some reason. Smoke was pouring out of his ears like a smokestack and his face was beet red.

"You're not worth it," he growled.

"Oh, aren't I?" she inquired.

"Fuck no."

"Who were you yelling at on the phone earlier?"

The question caught them both off guard. Buttercup hadn't been planning to ask that, she had been thinking it and it just sort of slipped out. Butch certainly hadn't been expecting it, so he had to stop and look at her for a moment to try to comprehend what she'd just asked.

"Why do you need to know?" he countered, whirring around and snatching his headgear from in her hand. She backed off a bit as he lovingly fondled his handlebars. _He likes… motorcycles._

"I'm just wondering, you don't have to be so fucking sassy." She _tsk_ed and turned to go back inside. "It was you who wanted us to talk more to each other."

He didn't look at her, but he knew she was right. It _had_ been his own idea. He sighed. "It was Becky," he said quietly through his teeth as he began to wipe down his bike.

"What?" she'd heard him, of course, she just wanted to hear him repeat himself.

He grit his teeth. "Becky. My ex-girlfriend."

She raised her eyebrows. "Ex?"

"Yeah, ex, why do you care?!" he shouted.

She shook her head, "I don't," and backed into the house through the garage door without another word.

* * *

_Your reviews will help us to donate king-sized waterbeds and relaxation therapy jacuzzis to poor old female penguins in Antarctica._


	10. A Walking Disaster

**Title: Under a Harlequin Spotlight**

**Chapter Ten Title: Walking Disaster**

**Pairing(s): Butch/Buttercup**

**Rating: T**

**Disclaimer: Do I look like Craig McCracken? The song is Walking Disaster by Sum 41. I don't own that either.**

**A/N: For some reason I can't do anything right, guys. I know this is late. It's homecoming week! :D tomorrow's pyjama day! Yay! So since homecoming is on Friday I am not sure if I'll be able to update. I'll try but no guarantees.**

**I know this chapter is kind of short but we take a big step in the greens' relationship. So yes, that means fluffiness. I hope you enjoy! :)**

**xoxo ~ml**

**9/17/12 - EDIT: fixed a few typos and such. **

* * *

Someone keyed Butch's motorcycle.

And everyone knew about it except for Butch.

The maid had caught it first. She was the first to walk into the garage and see the deep, scraggly scratches in the green paint of the bike's body. She instantly alerted the rest of the occupants of the home while the young man was still in bed that morning. Boomer's face drained of all colour at the news and Brick's cereal spoon clattered to the table from his hand. Buttercup had no reaction. She just yawned and slurped the rest of the milk from the bottom of her bowl.

Boomer looked at Brick with wide eyes. "Oh my god, what do we do?!" he whispered frantically. Brick just shook his head.

"We'll have to tell Dad before he finds out." He stood up quickly and put his bowl in the sink without finishing his cereal. Buttercup clanged her bowl back onto the table and looked up at them curiously.

"You guys are talking about this like somebody killed his wife."

Boomer slowly directed his wide-eyed stare at her. Brick said nothing. "You have no idea," Boomer said seriously, "What he's gonna say when he finds out."

Brick sighed at the dramatic tone in his brother's voice. "He'll basically murder whoever did this to his bike," he said solemnly. "God have mercy on their soul."

Boomer shuddered. Buttercup wasn't phased. She found it rather funny, actually. She turned to the blonde boy.

"What's so great about his motorcycle, anyway?" she asked. "It wasn't even that great..."

Boomer just shook his head. "You don't get it. Butch and his bike are like a little kid and his blanket. Didn't you see how bad he freaked when you took his bike out yesterday? When he finds out about this..."

"Finds out about what?"

Boomer's head whipped around to see Butch standing in the doorway, rubbing sleep out of his eyes. He had nothing but a pair of boxer shorts on, and his spiky hair was flopping lazily around on his head. Yes, Buttercup stared. She didn't care about that anymore. She just couldn't look into his eyes.

"Goddamnit, Butch, haven't you ever heard of clothes?" Brick scolded, gesturing to their guest at the table.

When Butch caught Buttercup's eyes on his chest, he groaned.

"Shit, you're still here?" He stole the box of cereal from in front of his blonde brother and snatched himself a bowl and spoon from the cupboard. Buttercup scoffed as he sat down next to her. She shot up immediately, taking her own bowl to the sink and filling it with water. Brick backed out of her way as she did so, disappearing completely from the room after ruffling Boomer's hair slightly with his hand.

"Well duh, I'm still here, what'd you think, I was just gonna leave?" Buttercup said sarcastically with an eyeroll.

"Yeah, I guess we can't all have our 11:11 wishes come true, huh?"

Boomer whimpered and Buttercup scoffed again. "Well I'm glad my wish came true then," she snapped.

"Congratulations, what'd you wish for, a bigger head?" he sneered. "Or a bigger mouth?"

Buttercup just grinned. "Neither, but I should've wished for bigger scratches in your paint job."

"What are you talking about?" he hissed at the same time as Boomer whimpered again. Buttercup ignored the helpless, desperate look in his eyes and looked smugly at Butch, leaning back against the counter with her arms folded across her chest.

"Why don't you ask your precious motorcycle?"

The look on his face right at that moment could only be described as ghostly. A heavy shadow cast over his brow and he, like Brick, dropped his spoon clattering into his empty bowl. "What did you do to my bike?"

Buttercup shrugged. "Me? I didn't do anything to it. You might wanna ask the maid about it, though, she seemed pretty suspicious..."

He shot up from the table, his chair flying behind him. "What happened to it? What—What..." but he didn't know what else to ask.

Within seconds, the Ruff had abandoned his breakfast and was bolted out to the garage in his underwear. Buttercup laughed out loud and made to follow him. Boomer's jaw hit the floor and he exhaled raggedly.

"It was nice knowing you..." he muttered quietly.

As she glanced over her shoulder to cast him an unconcerned look, an extremely angered scream pierced the air. A flash of something—excitement maybe—flickered in Buttercup's eyes and she darted out to the garage with Boomer in tow. The very second she opened the door to the garage, a strong hand slammed her against the wall adjacent to the door and knocked the breath right out of her chest.

"What the fuck did you do to my bike?!" Butch roared into her face, clasping a hand around her throat.

She grabbed at his wrists with both hands and tried to speak, but her words came out ragged and choked due to the firm grip he had on her. Boomer watched the scene through wide, fearful eyes, frozen there in the doorway, opening and closing his mouth like a fish.

"I'll tear your fucking lungs out, I swear to god," Butch growled, tightening his grip on Buttercup's neck.

Luckily, before Butch could completely tear Buttercup's head off, Brick appeared with his father in tow, shoving past Boomer and trying—but failing—to pull Butch off her.

"What is going on here?!" Mr. Johnson shouted, assisting Brick in the removal of the crazed green Ruff from the slightly amused, slightly shocked Puff.

When at last they pried Butch's fingers from around Buttercup's neck, they threw him down to the ground and Buttercup took a sharp breath.

"That crazy bitch did something to my bike!" Butch exclaimed, jabbing an accusing finger at Buttercup and wiping the insanity foam off his chin.

"Like hell I did!" she snapped back, rubbing at her neck where a row of bright red finger-marks was beginning to form.

"What'd she do?" Erik asked.

"I didn't do anything!" Buttercup replied, frantic now. If Erik thought she'd done something to Butch's bike, she'd be leaving this place within the next hour, for sure.

"Just look at my bike!" Butch cried, walking on his knees towards the motorcycle. "Look at her! She's ruined! These scratches will be impossible to get out!" He groaned and ran his hand over the deep indentations in the sides of the body. Erik approached the bike and observed from a distance—even be knew better than to touch Butch's motorcycle.

"Who would have a legitimate reason for carving 'Fuck you' in scratches on your motorcycle?" he mused, a hand to his chin in thought.

"Who the fuck else?" Butch sneered, burying his head in his elbow. "She got pissed when I yelled at her for using it yesterday, so she fucking keyed it..."

His voice cracked and he sucked in a breath. For a split second, Buttercup was shocked that such a simple, mediocre act could whirl Butch into near hysterics. Or tears. Butch didn't seem like the type to cry. Not at all. But when his father spoke, Buttercup snapped out of the state.

"I honestly don't think she would—"

"Why the fuck not?" Butch screamed. "I tried to be nice to her and she—"

"You tried to be nice?!" Buttercup mocked. "Bull shit, you've been nothing but an ass to me the whole time I've been here!"

Butch whirled around to face her, propping himself up onto his feet now.

"What about the jogging thing?" he retorted. "I saved your fucking life, and this is what I get as a thanks?"

"Butch—" Erik began to warn.

"I was nowhere close to getting hit," Buttercup said.

"Buttercup," Erik tried again.

The two were now in each others' faces, literally, with Mr. Johnson to the side of the fight, trying to break it up. Brick and Boomer still stood watching in the doorway.

"Bull shit you weren't," Butch sneered at Buttercup. "I should've just let that truck hit you. Maybe then you wouldn't have destroyed my bike!"

"I told you," Buttercup said desperately. "I never touched your goddamn bike!"

"Then who did?" he challenged.

"I don't know!" she cried, throwing her arms in the air. "Maybe it was your bitch of an ex-girlfriend! Ever think of that, genius?"

For once, Butch didn't have a retort. "She wouldn't..." but he stopped.

"Butch, I think you ought to know for sure who did this before you go making accusations." Erik finally broke his son's angry energy field and placed a hand on his shoulder. Buttercup took a deep breath and backed up, wearily bumping into Brick as she did so.

Now she'd done it, she was certain. Erik was on her side, sure, but that didn't mean anything. The freak-out she'd just had had been driven by her hatred for Butch, nothing else. But could Erik understand that? Or would he still blame her for ruining the bike? Was Buttercup's career as a singer over before it even began?

But Erik didn't kick Buttercup out. He didn't even blame the incident on her. He simply told her not to worry about it, that he would be keeping close tabs on his strongest, most ill-tempered son from now on. He also said he would be forcing Butch to apologize to her as soon as he'd cooled down.

Despite her persistence that it was perfectly alright, that she didn't need an apology, Erik claimed he only taught the best manners to his son and he wouldn't have it. But all day, though the two greens came in contact with each other often, he said nothing to her. He didn't even glance her way, not once. Though each time they happened to be in the same room together, she watched him intently and made sure he could feel her eyes boring into his back. She thought she might have caught him sneaking a peek at her once or twice, but each time she blinked he'd looked away, so she dubbe it imagination.

Amidst all this crazy grudge-holding tension and nervous laughter with Erik, to make matters worse, Liam hadn't called her since the whole therapy incident (although admittedly, she could have called him first, though she wasn't really prepared to swallow her pride and apologize just yet). The Professor and her sisters had yet to call her, as well. Buttercup decided he'd forgotten her phone number and tried to call him herself.

She dialed her home phone number and waited for the familiar ring and formal answer of her father. But the ring never came. Instead, her ears were met with a recorded message: "We're sorry. The number you have dialed is no longer in service."

She stared blankly at her cell phone for a second before hanging up and dialing again, only to receive the same message. She checked the number. It was right. She was sure of it. Had the Professor forgotten to pay the telephone bill again? She knew he was a _very _forgetful person and that it was pretty likely that he'd forgotten these things. But still. She was worried. What were the chances? Maybe she could ask to go out again, to visit her family. Maybe she should have done that rather than visiting Liam. But no, that couldn't be done. She couldn't ask to take out a car after Butch had accused her of keying his bike.

After that morning's episode, Buttercup wasn't sure she was ready to face any of the other members of the house at all. But alas, some things were just unavoidable. A knock sounded on her bedroom door as she sat on the bed, debating whether to call Liam or not.

"Come in," she called. She looked up just in time to see Erik in the doorway.

"Sorryto bother you Buttercup," he said slowly. "But I've got some bad news."

She was now at full attention. She widened her eyes and stood up, tossing her phone back down onto the bed. "Yeah?"

He cleared his throat and avoided her eyes rather nervously. "Well... Erm. We sent your recording bootleg to a few radio stations and places across the state, and... Well... To put it quite simply, they didn't like it."

At first, Buttercup didn't understand what Erik meant. They didn't like it? What did that mean, exactly? When the fact started to actually sink in, so did Buttercup sink to the bed, her mouth agape and her eyes staring straight ahead unblinkingly.

"Th-they didn't?"

"Well... No." Erik wrung his hands. "It's not necessarily a bad thing, considering this was your first recording and all. They just aren't used to your style. We just have to keep trying, sending stuff back. You're bound to get noticed sooner or later. We'll get you up there, I know how these things work."

Buttercup couldn't help the years that stung and flooded her eyes as he was talking to her.

"It's gonna be fi—"

"I know," Buttercup lied, fiercely blinking the tears out of her vision. "I know. Can I just... I need to practice."

She didn't look at him. She stomped around the bed and snatched a deep navy blue cardigan from the floor. She pulled it over her grey t-shirt and buttoned it up as Erik nodded.

"Yes, you can go down there to the studio whenever you need to," he said quickly. "Go for it. Definitely."

She didn't need his reassurance. She was going down there whether it was alright with him or not. She breezed past him and made a beeline for the recording studio in the basement.

As she passed Butch's bedroom (reluctantly, that was certain) he looked up from his laptop just in time to see her flying by, the light green streak almost visible behind her as her cardigan blew in the wind from her fast pace. He wondered where she was headed so quickly.

Admittedly, he never really suspected Buttercup of keying his motorcycle. Yeah, he was more pissed than he'd ever been in his life, but honestly, he knew it was Becky from the start. As soon as the image of the 'Fuck you' burned itself permanently into his eyes, he knew the culprit. But he wanted to wipe that stupid, smug grin clean off the green Puff's face. She was laughing at his expense, and it drove him insane. He just wanted to punch her lights out and tell her to go home, to get out of his house and never come back.

But of course, he couldn't do that. Not when his father so relied on her for this contract. And even if it meant living in the same house as his mortal enemy for the rest of his young life, he would never let his father down.

And as much as he hated Buttercup and wanted nothing to do with her, he couldn't help but wonder where she was headed in such a rush. It was like her heels were on fire and she was trying to run right out of her shoes. He put his laptop down on his bed and stood up, peeping out the door to barely spot her shutting the door to the basement behind her. No doubt she was headed for the studio, Butch assumed. Something told him he should just go back to his laptop and ignore this strange behaviour, but that something wasn't as great as the curious buzz in his head that wanted to hear her sing again. He still hated her. But that didn't mean he couldn't like her voice. Right?

So the next thing he knew, he found himself tiptoeing down the stairs to the studio and ducking behind the sound booth. He pulled the headphones over his ears as he peered around the corner to see Buttercup sitting on the stool in the sound-proof recording room, Mark's acoustic resting on her knee like a young child. The way she looked down at the strings caused her hair to cascade before her face like a deep black curtain, shielding her eyes from his view as she lightly strummed the guitar.

Butch let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. She'd turned on the microphone. He could hear the soft strum of the strings and her rhythmic hum just barely through the headphones. He watched her take a deep breath and listened carefully with baited breath as she began to sing.

"_I haven't been home in a while,_

_I'm sure everything's the same._

_Mom and Dad both in denial,_

_And only jump to take the blame_."

The song was slow and soft, though it was obviously the cover of a more intense tune.

"_Sorry Dad but I don't miss you._

_Father's no name you deserve._

_I'm just a kid with no ambitions,_

_Wouldn't come home for the world."_

Buttercup's fingertips caressed the guitar strings like she was playing a harp, gently and softly. Butch was amazed that such an aggressive girl could be so gentle, that it was even physically possible for her to be so soft.

"_At the dead end I begin,_

_To burn the bridge of innocence._

_Satisfaction guaranteed,_

_A pillow weight catastrophe._

_On a mission nowhere bound,_

_Inhibitions underground._

_A shallow grave I_

_Have dug all by myself_."

As the song picked up, her hand moved faster against the strings and her head dropped slightly. He detected something in her voice as she hit a lower note, a cracked sound, like she was holding back tears.

"_And now I've been gone for so long,_

_I can't remember who was wrong._

_All innocence is long gone._

_I pledge allegiance to the world of disbelief where I belong._

_A walking disaster,_

_The son of all bastards._

_You regret you made me,_

_It's too late to save me."_

Butch listened to the song Buttercup sang with confusion. Why was she singing about this? Her family loved her, he could tell when they'd visited. And why shouldn't they? Was Buttercup regretting leaving her family? Had they had a dispute before she'd left?

So many questions were left unanswered just by this simple song he couldn't bear it anymore. Buttercup was obviously having problems at home but he didn't know how to help. He didn't know if he even _wanted_ to help. He still hated her, didn't he? Yes, he did. But there was something about the way Buttercup sang this particular song that made him feel something. Maybe it was the way her fingers strummed the guitar ever so gently, or the way she was nearly in tears by the time she reached the second chorus. He didn't know. But it hurt him.

"_I will be home in a while,_

_You don't have to say a word._

_I can't wait to see you smile,_

_Wouldn't miss it for the world_."

On the last note, her voice cracked and she covered her mouth with her hand. A son shook her by the shoulders and she placed the guitar back on its stand. She stood up, still shaking from the sobs. Butch hadn't realized that during the course of her song, he'd stood up and wa now in her full view through the glass of the sound room.

He hadn't realized this factor until it was too late. She saw him standing there, his eyes glued to her unblinkingly. There was no way he could cover up or make an excuse now. He was caught.

Buttercup immediately wiped the tears from her eyes with the back of her hand, blinking the wetness away as she scrunched her eyebrows in confusion.

"Butch?" she said quietly into the microphone.

Butch pulled the headphones off his ears and his eyes searched the room frantically, looking for an excuse as to why he was here. But he had none. He bit his lip sheepishly and shrugged his shoulders in defeat.

Buttercup wiped her eyes again with the sleeves of her cardigan and met his eyes through the glass. That familiar shudder tickled at her spine but she managed to suppress it. What was he doing here? How long had he been there listening to her? She knew she should have been angry, she should have felt furious that he was watching her like this. But the fury was buried underneath her sadness, hidden behind the tears stinging in her eyes.

Buttercup slowly opened the door to the sound room so she didn't have to talk into the microphone. She absentmindedly twisted a piece of her hair around her finger as she watched him, looking as out of place as ever.

"How long have you been here...?" she whispered, trying not to meet his eyes.

She saw him shrug through her peripheral vision. "Does it matter?" he asked her.

She shook her head. "I guess not. But... why..." she didn't know what to ask, or even how to go about the question forming in her head. What she really wanted to know was why he was there, why had he listened to her? But for some reason her lips couldn't form the words.

He shrugged again. What to say, what to say! How did he tell her how he felt? It was so strange. He hated her. He knew for a fact that he hated her. But her voice... Just the way she sang with such feeling made those feelings melt away... And he was frozen. He didn't _want_ to like her voice. He didn't _want_ to feel this way. He just did.

"Erm," he said with a cough. He had to say something, _say something_! "You sounded great."

Buttercup couldn't take it anymore. She allowed herself to meet his eyes. They weren't as intense as usual. There was a dark shadow cast over his gaze she had not seen before. For once, she didn't feel the need to shudder. And she didn't.

"...You don't have to compliment me just because of your father," she said quietly, not looking away.

Butch shook his head. "It wasn't from my father."

Buttercup blinked. What? That compliment was from him? She continued to twist that strand of hair around her finger. She was confused. All she could think of was Liam's words: "You like Butch." And yeah, now that she thought about it, there were some things about Butch that she could tolerate. Especially that look he was giving her. She hated Butch when he was a dick, like earlier when he yelled at her about the bike. She hated Butch when he was sassy, like when he teased her about the wish. But she could stand him when he looked at her like this.

"Well... Um. Thanks."

He nodded slowly. He felt like he should say more. Buttercup deserved to know the truth.

"I know you didn't key my bike. It was Rebecca." What drove him to tell her that, he couldn't be sure, but he had to say something. "I didn't mean to... I mean, she called me and stuff, started going off on me or whatever, and..."

Buttercup let go of the piece of hair in her hand.

"I told you," she scoffed. "Why'd you have to blame me for?"

He hadn't been prepared to be reprimanded like that. He blinked.

"Well, I don't know, why'd you have to be such an ass about it?" he shot back.

She didn't have an answer to that. She sighed.

"I don't want to fight anymore," she said softly after a long moment of silence. "I've got enough to worry about without you annoying me all the time."

"I annoy you?" he repeated. "Please. You're the annoying one."

But he said it in a way that she knew he was messing with her. She met his eyes again, looking for that familiar spark.

"You really thought I sounded good?" she asked him.

He shrugged. "I guess, I mean, it was nothing on that night at the bar. That was a pretty wicked birthday present."

The corner of her lips turned up into half a smile, but an instant later it was gone.

"I wish my family thought that," she said quietly, looking down at her feet.

"That's what the song was about?" he guessed, leaning carefully against the sound board.

She just nodded. There were tears forming at her eyes. Shit. She didn't want to cry in front of Butch. He'd think she was weak. She quickly wiped her eyes with her sleeves again and sucked in a deep breath to calm herself, but the breath came out raspy and jagged and she shook again with the tremors of the sob.

Butch tried not to look at her while she cried. What the fuck was he supposed to do when she cried? Just stand there and wait til she was done? That sure as hell didn't feel right. He remembered when Rebecca had cried in front of him once. He'd comforted her, let her rest her head on his shoulder. But this was so much different. Buttercup wasn't his girlfriend. He hated her. So it didn't make any sense to comfort her.

But he felt an obligation to do so. He rocked back and forth on his feet, internally debating whether he should go to her or not. Just when he'd decided to offer her his consolation, she took a deep, steady breath and looked up at him again.

"Sorry," she muttered, still wiping her eyes. "It's just... They haven't made any effort to call me, and Liam's being a dick fuck, and I just..." she sighed. "I'm homesick, I guess."

Butch couldn't help the chuckle that escaped his throat. Buttercup looked at him curiously. He tried to cover up the laugh with a fake cough, but that only made things worse.

"He's a what?" Butch said with a teasing smile. "A dick fuck?"

She rolled her eyes. "Shut up, okay, he is."

He laughed again. "I'm gonna start using that. 'Boomer, you're such a dick fuck.'"

"Oh my god, shut up already."

Another laugh. She was acting pissed but he could tell he was cheering her up. A smile played at her lips but she tried desperately to suppress it.

"Hey, you said it, not me." He shrugged.

Buttercup punched him on the arm.

"So I guess you're feeling better then?" he said suggestively, rubbing his arm where she'd punched him.

She just shrugged.

He smiled. "Hey, it's gonna be okay, kid. Cheer up. I'm sure your family's not dead or anything."

Apparently that wasn't the right thing to say. A second later, Butch'a other arm and his stomach were throbbing in pain from her punches. But for some reason, he felt it was worth it. The smile didn't leave his face even though she was obviously fuming.

"Does somebody need a hug?" he teased.

"Fuck no."

"Come on," he urged. He spread his arms wide and gave her a knowing look.

Butch knew she wasn't going to hug him. He just liked being an enormous goofball. He felt like it would cheer her up. Why he wanted to cheer her up, he didn't know. Her song was still swimming around in his head like an echo. And he wasn't expecting her to hug him back. Definitely not.

But she did.

She allowed him to pull her small form into his strong arms, squeezing her tightly. The hug took her breath away. She felt so safe in his arms as she let out her breath slowly and closed her eyes, resting her chin against his shoulder. His arms were strong but somehow soft, wrapping around her like a security blanket. And he was so warm. Like her father. She realized that she hadn't hugged anyone since the Professor so many days ago. She always loved the Professor's hugs. And Butch reminded her of him.

Suddenly, she didn't feel so alone anymore.

He was the first to pull away. He wasn't sure how much more of this he could take. She was killing him. Slowly, from the inside out, he was dying. Because of her.

The moment that followed was awkward. Very awkward.

Butch scratched the back of his neck and allowed his eyes to wander.

She cleared her throat. "Um. Thanks."

He nodded. "Yeah."

She backed up a little bit, waggling her fingers in a goodbye wave as she climbed the stairs and left him alone in the recording studio with his thoughts.

That night, Butch couldn't sleep. He couldn't even think about sleep. The only thing he could think about was Buttercup. Her song. That night at the bar. Her form molding into his as they hugged. He wanted her in his arms again.

But he still hated her. Oh yeah, he really did. Really. He was only thinking like this because she had that way of hypnotizing him with her voice. That's all. It was her song. Pretty soon her magical effect would wear off and he'd be back to his usual wishes of tearing her throat out.

Or so he hoped.

* * *

_Your reviews will teach left shoelaces how to tie themselves._


	11. Friends or Stalkers, What's Difference?

**Title: Under a Harlequin Spotlight**

**Chapter Eleven Title: Friends or Stalkers, What's the Difference?**

**Pairing: Butch/Buttercup fluffies along with some red and blue gumdrops c:**

**Rating: T because this is Sparta**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the PowerPuff Girls. The song is Let the Flames Begin by Paramore (to stick with the theme ;)). Some images on my profile.**

**A/N: TODAY IS THE LAST DAY TO ENTER MY CONTEST. ENTRIES MUST BE IN BEFORE MIDNIGHT. Although, I might be lenient if you're nice to me. Polls go up tomorrow afternoon, probably when I get home from school. I'm only going to have a first place winner this month, because I only got like four or five entries. So thank you and good luck to all who entered!**

**I know. I'm two days, one week late. I should be shot. Go ahead, throw something at me. ): But not before you read the chapter. Because it took me forever to write and I just want you guys to be proud of me! ;_; I hope you think this update is worth the wait. I'll be back Friday, I promise, guys. No matter how short the update is. Enjoy. :)**

**xoxo ~ml**

* * *

**Chapter Eleven: Friends or Stalkers, What's the Difference?**

The next week practically flew by. The neutrality of Butch and Buttercup's 'relationship' (if you could call it that) was, well... Calming. The other members of the household couldn't quite figure it out. They didn't exactly detest each other, but they weren't friends either.

On Tuesday morning, Butch woke up with an unfortunate cold and was bed-ridden for a good part of the day. That day Buttercup coincidentally stayed home from her morning jog, sporting the excuse that it was "too cold out", though everyone with a brain could figure out that it took a lot more than just some chilly weather to make the Toughest Fighter crack. Brick and Boomer noticed as well that she devised several excuses to visit Butch in his room that day as well. When the maid had finished making Butch's lunch for him and was on the way upstairs with it, Buttercup just so happened to be walking by and snatched the tray out of the maid's hands, taking it to him herself. She also jumped at the chance to help when Butch needed replacement batteries in his remote control for the television. She was just being helpful, she told everyone. She felt like it was her own fault that he was ill.

But through his 24-hour bug and the rest of the week, Butch hardly said a word to Buttercup. She kept quiet around him, too. They weren't exactly verbal emoters to begin with; it was always more physical action and eye contact anyways. Which, of course, meant that every time they were near each other, they stared at each other. It was almost like a silent, unspoken conversation that meant so much, yet at the same time nothing at all. Buttercup had gotten quite used to Butch's intense gaze and was less susceptible to the usual tremors when their eyes met—which was more often than you'd expect. Unless, of course, Butch was planning on testing her with that deathly attractive gaze of his, that gaze he'd given her only a few nights ago in the studio after he'd heard her sing.

For Butch, falling ill that day was not a terrible happening at all. He even found himself feeling stronger and healthier when she made a surprise visit to his room—with lunch! He even purposely took the batteries out of his remote just so he would have an excuse for her to return. It was just so he could have company, he convinced himself. Both times she came into his room, he wanted to say something, but the tension was so thick he couldn't get any words out. He wasn't sure if she was still sore about the whole motorcycle thing or not, and he wasn't really prepared to find out.

So of course, neither of them said a single word to the other all week.

"Hey Buttercup, have you seen Butch lately?" Boomer asked the girl with a timid tap on her open door one afternoon.

Buttercup was lounging on her bed, sprawled out comfortably with her laptop on a pillow in front of her. She yawned at the blonde boy's entry and rolled over onto her back with a stretch.

"Not really," she replied nonchalantly. "Unless you count last night, he was in his room at like seven."

As if it was terribly normal for her to know this.

Boomer's face twisted into a confused look for a second, but he shook it off and sighed. "He's been really... distant lately. Do you have any idea what's up?"

Buttercup shrugged, closing her eyes. "How should I know, I'm not his mother."

The blonde boy shied back into the doorframe almost fearfully. "Well, I just figured you'd know, cuz you guys are so close now or whatever..."

At this, Buttercup snapped her head up and rolled back over onto her stomach to look at him. The expression on her face was an unreadable one; but her questioning eyes said it all.

"What do you mean 'we're so close'?"

He shied back even more. This girl was scary. And she wasn't even threatening. Just intimidating.

"I dunno, you just seem to spend a lot of time together, that's all."

Buttercup studied the boy's face again, her eyebrows furrowed on her forehead and her bottom lip sucked in the slightest bit.

"We don't."

Boomer hadn't the slightest idea whether he should agree with her or retort. He figured the former of the two was a much better option on so many levels.

"Okay."

He made to leave, but to his dismay, she stopped him.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

He blinked. "Uh... It means... Okay."

"You don't believe me." She sat up on the bed and glared at him. He didn't respond. "Me and Butch aren't close. We hate each other."

He was scared to say 'Okay' again. She was sort of freaking him out a little. The intense glare in her eyes was a bit too much for Boomer to handle. He just nodded and ducked out of the doorway before she could say anything else.

Buttercup watched him depart with a crazed look on her face. How dare that dumb blonde say that she and Butch were... _friends_! So what if they maybe were on barely speaking terms for a few days... That didn't mean they were friends. They were nowhere close to being friends. Far from it. What an idiot. Boomer was an idiot. Butch was an idiot. Everyone was an idiot. Especially her entire stupid family that had yet to call her back.

* * *

"I'm really sorry about your bike."

Blah blah blah. That's all Butch was hearing coming out of this girl's mouth. He wanted nothing more to do with her. Once you destroy something that meant so much to him, it's over. You're done. No second chances.

"Don't fucking lie to me."

"It's that singer bitch, isn't it?" she retorted out of subject, scoffing into the phone.

He blinked. He'd not been expecting that. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

"That singing bitch from the club. I know your dad signed her for a recording contract. I'm not retarded. She's been living with you. Everybody's talking about it. You were cheating on me with her, weren't you?"

"What the fu—no fucking way, Becky, you know I would never—"

"I knew it," she snapped, cutting him off. "You're a fucking git. I can't believe you would do this to me. And then break it off like nothing happened? You fucking asshole."

Butch decided this was escalating far too quickly for his liking. "Oh my god, Becky, you're so fucking—"

"I never want to talk to you again!"

She thought she was being threatening, demeaning. But in reality Butch was happier than anyone could be about this.

"Good riddance then, bitch."

And he hung up on her. With a sigh, he tossed his phone down on the bed and looked up at the large analog clock on the wall in his room. Three forty-five. Almost time for his father to get home from work.

Why in the world had Rebecca concluded that he'd cheated on her? He was an asshole, but he wasn't that terrible.

And he didn't even like Buttercup.

Not that much anyways.

* * *

Buttercup had expected the recordings. That was a given. She had expected the photos, the questions, and even some of the popularity. But what she hadn't expected was the concerts.

"I was able to get you in for tonight at The Box, a local performance club in downtown CityVille," Erik explained excitedly after calling Buttercup into his office.

"T-Tonight?" Buttercup stuttered.

The man nodded. "They've got a half an hour opening in between performances by Killer Swan and Vanity Spark. That's where you'll be performing."

Buttercup felt her face drain of all colour. She knew of both Killer Swan and Vanity Spark. VS had held the star, one of her very favourite female singers, for the past year or two. They weren't extremely famous, but to the average punk rock-lover they were like gods from heaven.

"But how can I perform?" she asked frantically, panicking a bit. "I haven't had time to prepare, and I don't have a band or guitar or anything!"

Despite Buttercup's worrisome whines, Erik simply smiled and waved away her concerns. "I've taken care of everything for you," he said simply. "Asking around has brought me to the conclusion that you like to sing punk rock sorts of songs, and since that'd be going along with the theme anyways, I organized a setlist of songs compiled from the songs on your iPod... I hope you don't mind we had a look at them."

Buttercup blinked, slightly taken aback at the man's accuracy and ability to stay on top of things. "But what about—"

"I think you'll be satisfied with the choice we've made for your guitarist." He winked.

At the word 'guitarist', Buttercup's heart immediately jumped in her chest as Liam's face trickled into her thoughts. She shrugged it away and took a shaky breath.

"When do I have to be there?" she asked.

Erik glanced at his watch. "You've got about six hours."

Her heart jumped again. "That's it?!" she cried, throwing herself away from him and making a beeline out of the office for the studio.

Erik chuckled as she bolted down the hall, shoving violently past a flustered Brick who was just entering the room. The red-headed boy raised an eyebrow and jerked his thumb behind him where she'd departed.

The verbal question wasn't necessary. "She's got a concert tonight," Erik responded to the look on his son's face.

Brick nodded in gradual comprehension but said nothing. His father studied his face for a moment, expecting a reply, but when his son remained silent he went back to his paperwork. The red 'Ruff stood there for a few more seconds before casually sauntering towards the door.

"Where're you going?" Erik inquired without looking up from his papers.

"Pool," came the boy's only response.

Erik nodded. "Don't leave," he instructed Brick. "We might have company over tonight."

Brick raised an eyebrow. "What kind of company?"

Erik peered at his son over the rims of his reading glasses. "Does it matter? Don't go anywhere or you're grounded forever."

The redhead made a silent, sarcastic salute and marched exaggeratedly out of his father's office.

* * *

The game room was easily the boys' favourite hangout that excluded anywhere outside of the house. And the pool table was easily the most used item aside from the television. That is, if one could get Brick's adrenaline pumping enough to actually do something physically draining. Most of the time he was too lazy to do anything at all, lounging around on the couch or chair reading and watching TV. So Butch was rather surprised when his redheaded brother asked him if he'd like to play a round.

"So. Buttercup's performing at an actual concert tonight." Brick said bluntly, a hint of skepticism in his voice as he carefully smacked the cue with his stick. Butch tried not to emote at his brother's lacking tone of voice and instead just nodded absently. "She'll throw it."

Butch blinked. "Huh?"

Brick sighed and crossed his arms, resting his elbows on the table. Butch straightened up from his shooting position and met his brother's eyes.

"She won't be able to handle it," the redhead said simply. "She might be argumentative and one hell of a crazy bitch, but she doesn't have the balls to last through that kind of thing."

"She's a girl, dumbass, she doesn't have balls."

Brick shrugged. "Hey, I wouldn't be surprised."

"What the fuck are you even saying?" Butch asked, smacking his pool stick on the edge of the table. His heart was pumping his blood faster than normal against his will. Brick didn't have to insult Buttercup like that. He may have been right—she _was_one hell of a crazy bitch—but saying she had balls? Hadn't they decided on some sort of truce, Brick and Buttercup? They had been getting along thus far.

Brick just raised an eyebrow. "You're sticking up for her?" he teased slowly.

Butch's face turned red, either from anger or something else. "No fucking way," he growled defensively. "Why would I do that?"

Brick lifted his elbows off the table and picked up the eight ball, tossing it in the air repeatedly and catching it in his hands.

"Shit, come on, you're fucking up the game—"

"You're friends with her."

Butch made a face. "No I'm not, you know—"

"Ever since the motorcycle thing with your ex you've been acting strange. Like you actually /like/ having her here."

Butch considered ignoring him and saying nothing. He didn't have the patience to play Brick's stupid mind games today. But instead he shot the redhead a dirty look and smacked him with the pool stick.

"I fucking hate that bitch, you know I do," Butch said simply as Brick rubbed his head where the stick had hit him.

"Whatever," Brick muttered, underhandedly chucking the eight ball at Butch's head. The green 'Ruff ducked just in time and the ball fell harmlessly to the floor. Brick picked up the four ball and started tossing that one instead.

"Well, look at it this way," Butch said. "I hate her just as much as you hate that pink 'Puff."

Brick's hands froze dead in the air and the four clattered to the table with a double bounce. He avoided Butch's eyes as his hand shot out to pick up the ball again. He cleared his throat. "Oh."

Butch opened his mouth to respond.

"Hey, which shirt do you guys think I should wear?" Boomer asked suddenly, appearing out of the laundry room with a button-up shirt in each hand. One shirt was teal with a light green stripe over the collar and buttons, and the other was baby blue with a thick white horizontal stripe over the chest. Brick and Butch both stared at the blonde boy for a very long, awkward moment. "What?" Boomer asked innocently, his arms faltering at his sides.

Brick shook his head with his eyes closed. "Uh, the one on the left." He pointed to the teal shirt in Boomer's hand. The blonde discarded the blue shirt down onto the couch and threw the teal one over his bare shoulders. Brick and Butch exchanged a blank glance.

"Uh, why?" Brick asked hesitantly, not exactly sure he wanted to know.

Boomer shrugged. "Well, I wasn't sure if I wanted to wear the blue one or the teal one, cuz the blue one looked good but the teal—"

"Shut up, idiot, that's not what he meant," Butch snapped, rolling his eyes. Boomer just gaped, confused.

Brick buried his face in his palms with a barely audible moan. "Why are you dressing up like you've got some hot date tonight?"

Now it was the blonde's turn to look at his brothers like they were insane rather than he. "Didn't Dad tell you?" he said in a high voice. "We're going to Buttercup's concert tonight, and—"

"We're _going_to that shit?" Brick repeated disbelievingly.

Boomer nodded. Butch let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. Brick sighed.

"That doesn't explain why you're dressed up."

Boomer's face flushed and his gaze shifted to the pool table. "Oh, hey, you're playing pool, who's winning?" he said, shakily avoiding the question.

"Fucking Jesus," Butch responded with a scoff. "Now answer the question."

Boomer coughed. "Uh. Well, we have front seats at the concert and I just wanted to... Um... Look presentable..."

"Don't fuck with us, Boom, what's the real reason?" Brick glared at Boomer, blood red eyes burning into his icy blue ones.

Butch's gaze flicked from brother to brother, not sure which of the two he most wanted to punch.

Boomer was clearly under great pressure from Brick's glare and he eventually cracked. He slammed his fists into the pool table, his eyes bulging like a madman.

"_They're_ supposed be there," he whispered frantically. "The other girls. Their seats are gonna be right next to ours. If they actually show up... If I get to sit by her... If she wears... Oh, if her _legs_..." His eyes glazed over and he stared dreamily off into space, a drop of drool dangling from his lips.

A flash of something almost unrecognizable skipped across Brick's hard eyes, only for him to cover the emotion with a false blank expression.

"Damn, Boomer, control your boner," Butch said with a malicious grin.

"They're _all_going?" Brick asked the smallest brother almost at the same time. He tried to make this inquiry as emotionless as he could, but it came out sounding frantic.

Boomer nodded again. It seemed like he was a bobble-head, constantly nodding up and down ceaselessly. "They're supposed to be. But rumour has it Buttercup hasn't heard from them since she's left."

"They're probably glad she's gone," Brick mumbled. "I know I would be."

Boomer shrugged. "I don't mind having her here," he said nonchalantly. "It helps with the stress" —he leaned in close and raised his eyebrows suggestively— "if you know what I mean."

In one swift, nonchalant movement Butch had knocked the cue ball into both Boomer's and Brick's hands on the table. Boomer yelped and yanked his hand away, sticking his fingers into his mouth. Brick simply lifted his hand and laser beamed Butch's pool stick without even glancing at him.

Butch cursed and dropped the burnt stick. Before he could fire back, Brick used his super speed to rocket up the stairs and disappear from sight.

"Fucking pussy," Butch muttered under his breath. He definitely was _not_in the mood for the redhead's shit.

Boomer coughed again. "You could stick up for her, you know," he said softly. "I know you're like sort of friends now."

The green 'Ruff glanced at Boomer, releasing a hot laser beam directly into his chest. His teal shirt disintegrated into a pile of ashes and his hands shot up to grip the pink burn forming on his chest.

"I like the blue one better," Butch growled, stomping up the stairs after Brick, leaving Boomer alone in the game room—in pain, confused, and shirtless.

* * *

As soon as Buttercup's six hours of practice had come to an end, she barely had time to breathe before she was chauffeured off to the The Box and given her own dressing room in which to relax before her performance. And dressing certainly was a hectic experience for the raven-haired girl. She had no idea what to wear. She'd performed before, yeah, so she knew all about acoustics and spotlights and stage hands and all that fancy crap. But before she'd never really been concerned with her outward appearance. She never cared about her clothes. She didn't have to. Before, she had only been performing in front of soccer mums and drunken Broadway wannabes, so her clothes hadn't really mattered much. This time, though, the crowd would vary immensely, widely ranging from drunken teens and young adults to punk rock kids getting higher than the Empire State building. A good first impression had to stand out to the half-attentive audience. Henceforth, choosing an acceptable outfit was more difficult than it ever had been for Buttercup. But as she was sulking in her dressing room, fumbling with her plain old green capris and white tee, a surprise visit from Liam, garment bag in hand, brought a sparkle to her eyes as well as a glimmer of hope in her heart.

"I'm really sorry about the other day, BC," he apologized. "I didn't know it meant so much to you, and I—"

"Don't mention it," she said quickly, waving her hand. "Seriously. Don't. Ever."

And so he backed off before she could say anything else.

"What are you doing here?" she asked. "How did you get here? How did you know—"

"Hey," he said simply. "I'm Liam. I know everything."

Buttercup rolled her eyes. "Where's your _boyfriend_, then?" She said the word 'boyfriend' with acid.

"He had class. He couldn't come. Plus I didn't think he'd really want to, considering everything..."

"Yeah, it's fine..." she muttered quietly. "But you—?"

At this, he beamed. "You're gonna love me."

"Tell me, Liam."

"You really will fall in love with me."

"Liam, seriously."

"You'll say, 'Liam, I just want to marry you, even though you're gay because you're the most perfect man in the world..."

"Fucking tell me what you're doing here before I tear your throat out of your neck," she growled menacingly.

He grinned. "Do it then."

She glared at him for a moment longer before groaning and flopping herself into a chair in front of a gigantic mirror. "Liam, just tell me, what the fuck!"

Liam chuckled and grabbed the back of the chair, spinning her around slowly. "I'm here to see you perform..." he said slowly. Buttercup frowned. But he wasn't done. "...from onstage."

Buttercup almost fell out of the revolving chair. "_What_?!" she screeched, dragging her feet on the floor to stop the chair from spinning. "You— you're not..."

His only response was a smile brighter than the sun.

"You're my guitarist, aren't you?!"

Liam bobbed his head up and down happily. Buttercup leapt out of the chair and punched the air with a fist. "I can't believe this! This is... When Erik said he found a good guitarist, I wasn't expecting... _dude_!"

Liam laughed at his best friend's reaction. "Apparently you mentioned something about me playing for you and he decided he wanted me to play. So I said, of course I'd play with you."

Buttercup just shook her head in amazement. "I... I just don't even..."

"Hey. Come on," Liam said with a gentle smile, taking her by the arm. "Just like old times. Put on that outfit I brought you. I worked hard for that money."

She snorted. "No you didn't," she responded.

He shrugged. "Okay, maybe not, but you still have to wear it."

* * *

"I look stupid."

"No you don't, come on, you're on in ten minutes."

Buttercup groaned and walked carefully out of the dressing room, meeting her friend who had been waiting patiently outside the door. When he saw her step out of the room, leg first, with the rest of her body flowing in sweet pursuit, even he had to stop and stare.

She looked beautiful. The outfit Liam had bought for her was a simple one, but Buttercup pulled it off so nicely. Going for a complete punk-rock look, she had her arms folded tight across her green-daunted chest. It was a light green, metallic-style dress that came down to her knees, with two simple thick straps over her shoulders and a pinched waist. The neckline came up to her collarbone, where Liam had convinced her to throw on a black bow-tie around her jugular. Underneath the dress she simply had on black tights with natural-looking tears in the knees and black boot heels. Although her long, pale legs weren't as exposed as she was comfortable with, the natural length and shape of them was enough, Liam was sure, to drive the boys insane. **[1]**

He grinned. "You look amazing."

"Shut up," she snapped, pushing past him to where there was a stage hand waiting to place her mic on her back.

"I'm just telling the truth, BC," Liam said with a shrug. He himself was wearing a simple red band tee that read 'Yellowcard' and a pair of black skinny jeans and red Keds. "Are you nervous?"

He'd asked the same question as he's always asked before every performance at the bar. Was she nervous? Yes. Oh, dear god, yes. But she wasn't telling him that. There was no way in hell.

"'Course not," she smirked, playfully punching him in the arm.

Her family had been invited to this concert. Erik had mailed out tickets and put their names on the VIP list, but they hadn't said a word about it. Although it was rather short-notice, she still hoped they'd come. They were reserved for the front row seats. If they showed up...

She shook her head and tried to think about something else. The boys also had seats up front. She'd have to sing right to them again. Just like at the bar that night. That night Butch noticed her for the first time. That night he looked her in the eyes and that first unfamiliar shudder rippled through her spine...

Dammit. She just couldn't stop thinking about anything. _Focus, Buttercup!_she tried to tell herself. She took a few deep breaths. The backstage scenery faded before her eyes and went blurry. Somewhere far off in the distance, she heard her favourite female singer from the band onstage, Vanity Spark, introduce her as 'the next new rookie on the block'. She faintly heard Liam ask her if she was ready. She somehow found the strength to nod and follow him out onstage, where the lead singer from VS stood smiling at her. She turned to look at the audience, who roared excitedly with her entry. She looked down to the seats up front. She didn't recognize anyone in the front row. She didn't even see Erik.

Her heart sank and she offered a weak smile to the singer, who whispered, "Good luck," as she passed off the prop mic and winked, patting her on the back. Suddenly, seeing all the cheering people and Vanity Spark leaving the stage and Liam casting a blue-eyed wink in her direction gave her the courage she knew was buried beneath her hurt and pain that her family hadn't shown. She gripped the microphone tighter in her fist and grinned widely at the audience, waving with her other hand.

"Hey, everyone!" she greeted them cheerily. "I'm Buttercup, and backing me up on chords is my best friend in the whole world, Liam Handson!"

Liam waved. The crowd roared, and she knew that many girls were falling instantly in love with the blue-eyed boy. She let out a shaky breath. This wasn't any different from performing at the bar, save for the hundreds more people and the lack of karaoke screen.

She turned to Liam and he winked back, giving her the okay to get ready. He strummed a single note on his guitar and the girls in the crowd screamed. He laughed. Buttercup turned back towards the audience just as he started playing the intro. What had she been afraid of? She could do this in her sleep. She was born to sing onstage. All that practicing for those six hours had really paid off, too. This was a breeze. She wasn't even worried about her family anymore. No, this certainly wasn't bad at all.

* * *

The music was making Butch's ears bleed. Everyone was dressed like a fucking poser; black skinny jeans, band tees, insane neon hair dye, six inch gauges and piercings on every inch of their visible skin. He definitely did not like the seductive looks that all these scene girls were shooting him over their shoulders, batting their thickly caked eyelashes at him and eying him up and down. The guys were glaring at him threateningly, most likely judging his outfit. He sure didn't fit in with the rest of them. He had on a grey hoodie that read 'ARMY' and a pair of blue jeans.

But if Butch's outfit clashed with those of the posers, Boomer's was definitely sure to get him mugged. Or murdered. The blue button-down and plaid shorts was probably not the best choice on the blue 'Ruff's part. He was even being shoved by select few males who shot him dirty looks. Boomer, of course, would apologize and step out of their way, which only egged the posers further.

Butch laughed at his brother's stupidity and wove in and out of the crowd, searching for his other, redheaded brother. Shoving past a short purple-haired girl, he finally spotted Brick leaning up against the counter, looking most foolish out of the three of them with a black beanie pulled over his head in place of his usual red cap. He had on a plain black t-shirt and black jeans with red converse on his feet. Butch let out another string of uncontrollable laughter as he approached Brick, who's cheeks flushed deep red when he saw who was coming.

"Planning on robbing a bank?" Butch asked his brother, leaning against the counter and flanking the boy's left.

Brick looked down at his shoes and grit his teeth. "This is the only time I submit to conformity," he said through his teeth. "It's only because of my hair."

"Your hair?" repeated Butch incredulously. He noticed a glass near Brick's elbow and he picked it up, sniffing it.

Brick nodded. "They tend to gang up on males with auburn hair."

Butch snorted. "I don't blame 'em. Fucking gingers." He took a swig of Brick's drink, which was something non-alcoholic, to his great dismay.

Brick glared at Butch with blood red eyes. "Just consider yourself fortunate you haven't been completely mobbed by those goth girls over there," he mocked. "Your luscious ebony locks and mystic green eyes are to die for."

And that was when Butch attempted his second swift movement of the night. He snatched the hideous beanie from his brother's head, revealing the pumpkin-coloured strands beneath. He flung the article into the moshing crowd before them, where it was swallowed up by the blackness of the posers.

Brick quickly reached up to cover his head with his arms. "Butch, you ass, now I'm going to be killed!"

Butch just shrugged, downed the rest of his brother's drink, took a deep breath and barged head-first into the dangerously pulsing crowd.

"And now, ghosts and ghouls, I'd like to take this special opportunity to introduce you to the next new rookie on the block, some of you TownsVillians may recognize her as the green PowerPuff, it's _Buttercup Utonium_!"

Butch's heart jumped when some guy shoved him in the shoulder and eyes snapped to the stage, where the short brunette-and-pink-haired singer was introducing Buttercup. He was standing in the middle of the crowd, though he was fairly tall so he could just see over the tops of most of their heads. He watched Buttercup walk out onto the stage and some invisible force turned down the volume as a murmured hush fell over the crowd. Everyone in the audience stopped and held their breath as she made her grand entrance, though timidly, onto center stage. She was stunning.

Butch's eyes were torn away from the girl in the green dress onstage when he heard a low whistle from his right, which he instantly recognized as Boomer's.

"She looks so incredibly hot!" the blonde boy said, leaning into Butch's ear.

Although Butch very much agreed, he made a face at Boomer and decided to get closer, leaving his brother to gape in the middle of the crowd.

Buttercup introduced herself again onstage, and Butch's eyes caught on a dark boy with dazzling clear blue eyes and sparkling teeth. He held the guitar in his hand, waving at the crowd, the females of which fainted at the sight of him. Butch squinted.

"...and backing me up on chords is my best friend in the whole world, Liam Handson!" he heard Buttercup say.

Butch recognized this guy from the last concert. Buttercup's boyfriend or whatever. Yeah, okay. Best friend his ass. He was dressed like a fucking tool. Not even as bad as the rest of these posers, though. At least his hair was a normal colour and you couldn't drive a semi truck through his earrings.

The Liam kid strummed his guitar and the girls went crazy again. He started right into Buttercup's song, and Butch was finally able to redirect his vision towards the singing girl.

_"What a shame_  
_We all became such fragile, broken things_  
_A memory remains just a tiny spark_  
_I give it all my oxygen_  
_To let the flames begin_  
_So let the flames begin_  
_Oh, glory..."_

There she goes again with that little flick of the eyes and the brushing of her dark hair behind her ear. He watched in sort of awestruck revelation as her eyes swept over the crowd again, recognizing the subtle flash of desperation in her eyes when she didn't see her family.

_"Oh, glory.._  
_This is how we'll dance when_  
_When they try to take us down_  
_This is what will be_  
_Oh, glory."_

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath after the first chorus was completed. Something was wrong. Buttercup didn't have the usual spark in her voice as she usually did. She wasn't wowing the crowd. They weren't loving it. She looked worried and, strangely, scared.

_"Somewhere weakness is our strength_  
_And I'll die searching for it_  
_I can't let myself regret_  
_Such selfishness_  
_My pain and all the trouble caused_  
_No matter how long_  
_I believe that there's hope_  
_Buried beneath it all, and_  
_Hiding beneath it all, and_  
_Growing beneath it all, and..."_

Suddenly, her eyes snapped to the very back of the crowd, where he literally saw a flash of excitement, or hope, dance across her eyes as she spotted something he could not see.

_"This is how we'll dance when_  
_When they try to take us down_  
_This is how we'll sing out_  
_This is how we'll stand when_  
_When they burn our houses down_  
_This is what will be_  
_Oh, glory_  
_Reaching as I sink down into light_  
_Reaching as I sink down into light..."_

Curiosity got the best of Butch and he twisted his head around to try and spot who she'd seen. Immediately, he recognized the other two 'Puffs, the pink one and the blue one, cowering in the back of the crowd with VIP passes dangling around their necks.

The encouragement at seeing some of her family surged through Buttercup and she suddenly had the energy of a thousand singers. She threw her arms out in the air as the tempo picked up again.

_"This is how we dance when_  
_When they try to take us down_  
_This is how we'll sing out_  
_This is how we'll stand when_  
_When they burn our houses down_  
_This is what will be_  
_Oh, glory."_

With the final finish, Liam threw a few notes out there just to show off and Buttercup's grin was wider than Butch had ever seen it. The crowd went berserk and even Blossom and Bubbles cheered excitedly for their sister.

Butch failed to notice that Buttercup hadn't looked in his direction for the entire song. She sang a couple more songs, more mellow ones than the first, which the crowd ate up and begged for more. Yet through the duration of the entire song, Buttercup didn't look towards Butch, not once. He didn't exactly take it to heart, but he marveled at her consistency.

After her set list of about four songs, he decided to suck up his pride and go backstage to congratulate her. It wasn't hard to get back there, just past a few guards with his VIP pass and boom, he was backstage. He immediately spotted Buttercup, her smile brighter than her guitarist's, and she ran towards him.

Although he was shocked, he offered a half smile and made to speak, but she pushed right past him and jumped into the arms of her guitarist, Liam.

"You were fantastic, BC!" the dark boy exclaimed as he lifted her off the ground and twirled her around.

"Shut up, you were so good too!" Buttercup laughed with him.

Butch just looked on, blending awkwardly into the shadows.

Liam put Buttercup down and put his hands on Buttercup's arms. "I'm so proud of you," he said sappily. The raven-haired girl rolled her eyes and looked away, but a light blush touched her cheeks. Liam laughed and hugged her again, pecking her on the side of the cheek.

"Thanks, Liam," Butch heard Buttercup whisper, barely audible above the next band onstage, which Butch thought to be Killer Duck or something like that.

Butch couldn't stand this any longer. He whirled around, shoving past the other two 'Puffs, who had come backstage to congratulate their sister, and Boomer, who had most likely caught sight of Bubbles' blue jean capris and was invisibly dragged away from whatever he was doing to follow her.

Buttercup eventually wrenched away from Liam's grasp and turned to face her sisters. They looked the same. She pulled Bubbles and Blossom into the biggest hug she had ever given anyone. They felt the same. All this time they didn't contact her... And here they were, in her arms and _real_.

"Girls... I... Thank you... so much... for coming." Buttercup barely choked out the words as she squeezed her sisters.

Bubbles laughed the same laugh she always laughed. "Are you kidding?" she said. "We wouldn't miss this for the world!"

"You were marvelous," Blossom said quietly.

Buttercup let go of her sisters and studied them curiously. "You mean I wasn't annoying?" she teased. "And you didn't want me to 'STOP, BEFORE YOUR EARS BLEED'?"

Bubbles' cheeks flushed a shade of pink and she turned helplessly to look at Blossom. "Oh, Buttercup, we never really meant those things..."

Blossom half-smiled. "Don't push your luck, sis," she said to Buttercup, who scoffed.

"Where'd you go?" Buttercup asked. "I called... And I sent letters. I almost came back home to find you! You guys like, disappeared off the face of the fucking earth!"

"Don't swear," Blossom said softly.

"We didn't go anywhere!" Bubbles said at the same time. "There was a really bad storm a while ago and the power's been out for like three weeks!"

Blossom avoided Buttercup's questioning glare. "The Professor's been worried about you, too," she said quietly. "But he couldn't remember your phone number to call from the payphone."

"I had a feeling that was it," Buttercup muttered. "How come he's not here? I sent you guys three tickets, didn't I?"

At this inquiry, Blossom and Bubbles exchanged a nervous glance. There was silence for a moment before Blossom finally cleared her throat and spoke.

"The Professor's been... well... a bit preoccupied lately," the redhead said carefully. "He doesn't want you to worry, though. He misses you terribly and as soon as we get your phone number for him, he'll call you."

Something was not right about this answer, but Buttercup wasn't about to question Blossom. Not now, at least.

"Well... Okay. You guys really liked the show?"

Blossom's mood changed significantly and she smiled.

"Of course we did," she said.

"You had so many fans out there, Buttercup!" Bubbles squealed.

"Looks like you've got a little fan, yourself," Buttercup smirked back, nudging Bubbles' arm and nodding towards Boomer, who stood awkwardly watching them from a distance.

Bubbles' face flushed an even deeper red and she smacked Buttercup in the shoulder. "Don't say that!" she scolded. "He was just making sure I didn't get attacked by these scary people!"

Buttercup squinted. "These are my people."

Blossom rolled her eyes. "Oh, don't be so dramatic, Buttercup."

The green 'Puff just grinned. She was too happy to finally see her sisters to come back with a smart comment.

Butch, meanwhile, had found his way outside and was leaning against the wall out front, breathing deeply. The night was young, and only a lone street lamp illuminated the street.

"Butch?" a gruff voice said quietly.

Butch's head snapped up, his fists clenching out of habit and he whirled his gaze around the empty street. A dark figure stepped out of the shadows of the corner of the building.

"It's just me, Brick," Brick said, approaching his brother calmly.

Butch lowered his defense and let out his breath. "What the hell happened to you?"

The redhead was covered in some sort of sticky white strips of fabric and was completely doused in what smelled like piss and rubbing alcohol. His figure was outlined in dark shadows, with only his crimson eyes glowing menacingly.

"They attacked me."

Butch would have otherwise burst into laughter if it weren't for his decreasing mood. "Shit, that sucks bro."

Brick's eyes flashed. "Yeah. It sucks. And if you wouldn't have thrown away my hat, I wouldn't be covered in used toilet paper and vodka."

Butch just shrugged. "You might want to clean that shit off," he advised his brother. "Those 'Puffs are coming over for dinner again."

Brick groaned and leaned against the wall. "_That's_the company Dad was talking about?"

"I guess."

"Well fuck that shit."

Butch raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, you're right," he muttered. "You're better off staying that way. Need me to add some more feces?"

"You're a pig." Brick picked a strand of toilet paper from his shoulder and flung it in Butch's direction. It narrowly missed his face by an inch.

"That's what I hear," Butch retorted. He snorted then, for good measure. Who cared what other people thought. And that was coming from a ginger kid who was covered in piss and alcohol. No, it didn't affect him at all.

But what did affect him was that damn Liam guy. What was this guy after? Who was he? He dressed like a tool, looked like a complete jackass and would probably get lost after the sun went down. Best friends, his ass. Buttercup sure had a strange taste in men.

That thought struck him hard, for some reason. What _was_Buttercup's taste in men? What did she like? Was it tall, dark, pearly-teethed guys? With earrings and who looked like they lived in the ghetto? What did Buttercup think of Butch? Did anything about him attract her? He knew he was attracted to some parts of Buttercup even though he hated her. Was there anything that attracted her to him, even though she hated him? Something she just couldn't resist? He had to know.

"Come on, I wanna clean up before the 'Puffs come over," Brick said, snapping Butch out of his thoughts. "You know. Because of Dad," he added quickly.

The green 'Ruff just nodded and leapt into the air, following Brick home by way of flight. Hopefully Boomer would have enough common sense to drive Brick's car home. God knew where their dad had gotten to. Butch was so deeply submerged in his own thoughts as he flew after Brick that he didn't even notice that the redheaded brother reeked like a men's room in Vegas.

* * *

**[1] Link to this outfit is on my profile, at the top. It's Hayley Williams c: (can you tell I'm a huge Paramore fan? *shrinks*)**

_If you leave a review, you will be allowed one of the following:_  
_- to touch Butch's hair_  
_- to wear Brick's hat_  
_- to take Boomer's shirt off. c;_

_BUT ONLY ONE.  
_


	12. Like Cats and Dogs

**Title: Under a Harlequin Spotlight**

**Rating: T**

**Chapter Twelve Title: Like Cats and Dogs**

**Pairing(s): Greens with splashes of Red and Blue c:**

**Disclaimer: I so totally own the PowerPuff Girls! (Happy opposite day) ):**

**A/N:Congratulations to the September SCHOOL contest winner, Katty 'Taco' Kisses! :) And thanks to everyone else who entered, your stories were amazing! Visit my profile for this month's contest: AUTUMN/HALLOWEEN. c: Good luck everyone!**

**As for my lateness... I'm not even going to apologize... Just read...**

**xoxo ~ml**

* * *

**Chapter Twelve: Like Cats and Dogs**

After Brick had cleaned himself up a significant amount, he and Butch found their way back to the house, where there were two unfamiliar cars parked in the driveway. The night was young, and the sun had only just gone down. It was still a late hour for dinner, but Erik's insistence and sense of hospitality had eventually persuaded the 'Puffs into joining them for at least dessert. That, at least, explained where the black Taurus came from. But who was the owner of the other car, the sparkling white four-door Chevy truck? Butch found himself wondering about it as he followed Brick inside the home, kicking off their shoes at the door and heading straight back into the dining room, where they knew they would find their father and the guests. The last people Butch wanted to see at this point were the 'Puffs, showing off their bodies and doing the little things they do, but that wasn't the worst of the company, to his dismay.

Upon entering the dining room, the table was nearly full to the brim. At the head of the table sat Erik, of course, and on either side of him were Bubbles and Boomer. Next to Boomer were two empty seats—presumably theirs—and next to Bubbles sat Blossom and then Buttercup. But it was the person sitting next to Buttercup, the person he did not expect to be there, the person he most despised seeing that made Butch's stomach twist into knots. The very same Liam Handson sat at the other head of the table, looking as stupid as ever with his little grey beanie on his head and his red t-shirt that read 'Yellowcard'. Butch grit his teeth when he saw the guitarist, and he probably would've attacked him right there if his father hadn't said anything.

"How nice of you to join us, boys," Erik smiled. "Have a seat and I'll have Sarah get you some ice cream."

"No thanks."

"I'm good."

Butch and Brick both spoke at the same time of their rejection of the treat, but they sat down anyways. Brick quickly took his place next to Boomer and across from Blossom, leaving Butch to take the seat across from Buttercup—right next to Liam.

The guitarist's eyebrows shot up on his forehead as soon as he saw Butch and he glanced knowingly at Buttercup, who scowled and looked down, taking a gigantic bite of her vanilla ice cream.

"You're Butch, right?" Liam said in a friendly tone. Butch merely grunted his response, not looking at him. Liam nodded slowly. "I've heard so much about you. From BC, of course."

Butch scowled deeper, mirroring his counterpart's facial expression from across the table. Liam's piercing blue eyes flicked from side to side, studying each of their faces uneasily. There was obvious tension between the two as Butch glared intensely at the girl and she shoved spoonfuls of ice cream down her throat. The maid placed a slice of apple pie in front of Butch and he barely altered his gaze to eye it suspiciously before picking up a fork and digging in. Liam cleared his throat.

Erik smiled widely and attempted to get rid of some of the tension by turning to face the boy at his opposite end of the table. "So, Liam," he began loudly, folding his hands and resting his elbows on the table. "How long have you known how to play guitar?"

Liam politely finished chewing his last bite before he spoke. "Well, I taught myself back when I was twelve. That was a time when all of my peers were discovering their talents and I wanted to be able to do something as well as they seemed to be able to."

Erik nodded thoughtfully and took a sip of his coffee. Butch scoffed. Buttercup hadn't really even been listening—she had heard this story so many times before that she had grown accustomed to it. The others simply smiled, as in the girls' cases, or observed their desserts as if they were the most interesting things in the world, in the boys' cases.

Well, except for Boomer, who was watching Bubbles with that very same expression on his face. Possibly even a little bit of drool hanging out of his mouth. But the blue 'Puff didn't notice. She was too busy turning excitedly to Blossom to whisper something into her ear. Blossom pushed a strand of auburn hair behind her ear and smiled at her sister, nodding. Bubbles smiled widely and turned to Buttercup, whispering in her ear in turn and causing the girl's face to flush pink.

"No, Bubbles, no, it's not like that—" Buttercup started to say, but she was cut off by the sound of her younger sister's giggles.

"How did you manage to avoid those scene posers, Pinky?" Brick asked suddenly, catching everyone at the table slightly off-guard, for he had been sitting in his chair completely motionless and silent for the majority of the time he'd been there.

Blossom turned to him with a look of question. "Are you speaking to me?" she asked officiously.

"Who else would I call 'Pinky'?" Brick offered quickly with a raise of his eyebrow.

Placing her hand to her chest and turning away from him to look questioningly now at Bubbles, Blossom's bangs fell in front of her eye on one side to form a shield between her face and Brick's gaze, which he held firmly. Bubbles just shrugged her shoulders and continued to watch Boomer, who was on his third helping of chocolate ice cream and was still scarfing it down like he hadn't eaten in days. She thought it was rather cute. She gingerly took a small bite of her own frozen treat (vanilla, of course) and smiled at him when he looked up.

Blossom turned back to Brick and began to answer his question, hesitantly at first, until she realized that the boy seemed genuinely interested in what she had to say. She loved it when people listened to her, and frankly, there weren't many people who did.

Bubbles continued to share secret glances with the boy across from her, smiling like the Mona Lisa every time his eyes would meet hers.

And the entire time, Butch was glaring at Buttercup with that very same intense glare in his eyes. Buttercup was trying not to look at him. She looked everywhere but at him. She was still a bit red after Bubbles' comment that was completely uncalled for, something about how she and Butch would look cute together or make a good couple or something like that. She was just about ready to punch Bubbles in the face until Liam dropped his spoon into his now empty bowl and clapped his hands together loudly.

"Well, I should probably be getting home now," he said dismissively, arching his back in a wide stretch across the back of his chair.

Butch did a silent cheer inside his head, but on the outside, he finished his last bite of pie and escaped the dining room without offering a second glance at the departing guitarist.

Said guitarist stood up more slowly, twisting his back around again in another stretch and smiling at the rest of the members at the table.

"Thank you, so much for dessert, Mr. Johnson," he said politely.

Erik stood up quickly and made his way over to Liam's side of the table, saying, "Of course, sure, sure, it was no trouble at all, Liam. You're welcome back here whenever you wish."

He shook the boy's hand once with ardour and patted his shoulder with the other hand.

"I might just take you up on that offer," Liam responded with a grin, causing Erik to chuckle lightly. Everyone else at the table either watched the scene disinterestedly or didn't pay any attention at all. "Walk me out, BC?"

Buttercup nodded and stood up from the table, pulling her lime green hoodie over her head before following Liam outside into the damp, rainy air.

"Thanks for being my guitarist," she said quietly as they stood on the porch, Liam's white four-door Chevy glistening from the rain in the driveway.

He smiled. "Of course. You know it can't be forever, because I've got school in two weeks, but at least we had this concert."

Buttercup froze, turning her eyes up towards him with a single brow raised. "What was that?"

"What was what?"

"The last thing you said."

"'At least we had this concert?'"

She shook her head. "No, no, what did you say about school? You have _how_ many weeks until school?"

"...Two, why?"

Buttercup groaned. "I don't believe it. It's already been two months. I'm starting school soon, too... Nobody's said anything about it..."

Liam was silent for a moment. "Well, jeez, I guess I hadn't even thought about you going to school." He scratched the back of his neck and puffed out his cheeks, like he always did when he was thinking. "Maybe you should talk to somebody about that."

Buttercup scowled. "I should, but I probably won't. I don't care about stupid school. I'd rather be jammin out for the rest of my life."

"I know, but school's important. What if the whole 'punk rocker' career falls through? Then what?"

Buttercup had no response to this. She just hugged her chest, and Liam rubbed her forearm with his palm assuringly.

"I'm just trying to do what's best for you, BC," he said truthfully.

"I know," she replied quietly. After a moment's silence, she turned her face back up to look at him, her dimming eyes twinkling in the light from the dull street lamp. "You really made my life coming here, Li."

Liam shrugged. "It was the least I could do for what I said to you. I honestly didn't mean anything by it."

"Didn't I tell you to shut up about that?" Buttercup scowled.

"You did, but you have to let me apologize for it."

"You already did. It's done, okay?" She folded her arms across her chest and glared at him, but he ignored her.

"You have to give me the benefit of the doubt, BC. You guys do seem like you're into each other."

Buttercup's eyes went wide as she stared at him. "What the fuck are you talking about, no we absolutely do not."

"Sure you do," he argued. "You just act like you're not into him, but you actually are. And he's trying so hard not to fall for you, I can tell."

The girl's face was beet red from fury. "Liam. Shut up, okay? I do _not_ under _any_ circumstances _like_ Butch."

"Does he always stare at you so intently?" he asked, ignoring her argument again.

"Of course he—wait, what do you mean?"

"Well, every time I'd look at him, he'd be staring at you, trying to bend his fork in half or something. Like he wanted to eat you. And when you'd say something to him, he'd not respond and just look at you."

"Yeah, because he hates me," Buttercup deadpanned.

"I don't know about that, BC," Liam said, sucking air trough his teeth. "You seem like you're both in denial."

Instead of becoming enraged at her friend, Buttercup sighed and leaned back against the door. "That's what Bubbles said, too. She thought we were dating."

"I wouldn't doubt it if you said you were," he replied honestly.

Buttercup made a disgusted face. "You just don't understand," she said irritatedly.

"Maybe not, but I can try." He shot her an assured look from under the elastic of his beanie.

The green 'Puff sighed again. She waited a long time before responding to him. He watched her carefully, not even blinking to break his stare from her deep black irises.

"I just... We're like fire and ice. Oil and water. We just don't go together. Even if I did... Even if he..."

She stopped short, swallowing, and looked away from him. Liam immediately put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed it firmly.

"I know, BC. I know. I may not have been in this situation before, but I understand the feeling. You just need to... You just have to... Well..." Liam trailed off. He swallowed. Looked down. For once, he didn't have advice for her. "With that attitude you might as well start buying cats now," he tried finally with a small half-smile.

Buttercup ignored the joke. She shrugged her shoulder out of his grip and turned away, her hand on the doorknob. "It's whatever," she muttered. "It doesn't matter. Nothing's gonna change."

And truthfully, Liam had no response to that. None whatsoever. He just pulled the nearly tear-stricken Buttercup into his arms and hugged her tightly, resting his chin on the top of her head and slowly twisting her back and forth.

It was a sickening sight. The two stupid lovebirds were standing in the doorway in the sprinkling rain, just hugging each other. Butch couldn't hear what they were talking about from his bedroom window, and it didn't occur to him that he could use his super hearing. He didn't think he wanted to hear what they were saying. It was making him want to throw up in his mouth. Stupid Buttercup. Stupid Liam. Stupid everyone. How could he think for a second that she had any sort of feelings towards him? She was always talking about that Liam, anyways. Butch hated him. He hated her. He hated everything in the whole world.

Turning away from the window, he scowled deeply and kicked the open bottom drawer of his nightstand. Who needed her, anyways? He needed to focus on the bigger things in life. Like his poor baby girl, his motorcycle, he had to fix her quick before it was too late.

He heard the three 'Puffs exchange a gut-wrenching (in Butch's opinion) goodbye and watched his brothers' goo goo eyes pop out of their heads as the girls departed. He even managed to catch a glimpse of a secret exchange between Boomer and Bubbles, but he knew better than to make anything of it. No girl liked Boomer unless they thought he was gay. And that wasn't a hard assessment to make, Butch thought with a smirk.

Moments later, he could hear the blonde boy tromping up the stairs. Before he could make it to his bedroom, Butch purposely swung open his own bedroom door so it nearly smacked his brother in the face.

"Whoa, what the fuck, Butch, I'm walking here—"

"Yeah, shut up, you going out tonight?" Butch snapped.

"I wasn't exactly planning on it," the shorter boy replied. "We did just get back from a mosh..."

"Well fuck you too then, I'll just go alone."

"Brick?"

"Passed out on the couch downstairs again." Butch shoved past Boomer and headed down the stairs without looking back. The blonde made a beeline for his room and slammed the door fervently behind him.

Now the green 'Ruff wasn't normally one to ask his brother to do things with him, but tonight Butch had been secretly hoping that Boomer would be going out, hopefully to take some stress off with the numbing influence of alcohol. But it looked like he'd be going alone. And he still had that sickening feeling in the pit of his stomach, like he'd just swallowed a rock.

And to make matters worse, since Boomer wasn't going, he'd have to take his motorcycle out. And it still had 'fuck you' carved into it.

At least a little bit of alcohol (or maybe a lot, who cared, he was superhuman, he could drive) would keep his mind off the ache in his gut for a little while. He hoped.

But even now, heading down to the garage and carefully wiping down his scratched up bike, he felt hollow and sour and disgusted. He didn't know what to make of the feeling. It was as if his entire stomach was eating itself alive. What he should make of it, he wasn't sure, but he sure knew one thing for a fact. He was done listening to that stupid, needless organ that lovestruck idiots called his 'heart'.

* * *

If there was one, single, solitary fucking night when Buttercup needed her sleep most, it was tonight. But no. Fucking Butch just had to crash through the door at two AM making as much noise as he possibly could. She clamped her pillow over her ears and tried to drown out the sound of Butch's footsteps clambering below her. But the sound barged right through her overly soft pillow and knocked on her skull like a Jehovah's Witness.

"What... the... fuck," Buttercup moaned, punching the pillow and hurling it across the room. She fell out of her bed onto the floor, her blanket tangled around her legs like an anaconda. Letting out another low groan, she stomped to her feet and whipped open the door, storming downstairs into the living room.

"What part of fucking _two AM_ do you not understand?" she screeched at the dark figure in the shadows. His silhouette froze, swayed in place for a moment, then jerked sharply to the left. Buttercup crossed the room to the light switch. "If you're trying to scare me, it's not gonna—"

As she flipped on the light switch, a gasp escaped her throat at the sight before her.

"S-scared ya, didn' I, Butters?" Butch mumbled with a hiccup. Buttercup's nose crinkled at the smell of alcohol on his breath and she backed up a bit at his appearance. Butch's face was nearly unrecognizable. He had a large, purple black eye, a fat lip and a bloody nose, his eyes dim and hazy. He couldn't focus his gaze on her face. He hiccuped again and took a very shaky step forward.

"What the fuck happened to you?" Buttercup managed to choke out, trying to convey her authority by thrusting her hands on her hips but in reality a bit afraid of the gruesome character in front of her.

"Wh-Why should I t-tell you?" he stammered between hiccups, grasping the back of the couch for support.

"Because it's two in the fucking morning and I'm gonna crush you worse than you are now if you don't shut the fuck up." Buttercup realized that yelling at the obviously drunken Butch was not a very good idea if she ever expected to get any sleep that night. She sighed. "Why can't you just go to bed and be normal like your brothers? Brick didn't wake me up at two fucking AM! Boomer never—"

"Don't say that bastard's name!" Butch suddenly scowled, crazed and insane. His forest green eyes blazed with fire as they burned into hers. She made a confused face, that familiar shudder rippling through her spine with more intensity than ever before. "Yeah, you heard what I said, my fucking asshole of a brother fucked me over like everybody else does."

As Butch was speaking, he staggered around the end of the couch and flopped down onto it with a groan of pain. Buttercup didn't know what to make of his rant about Boomer, but she did notice that there was an enormous gash on the side of his stomach, a torn slit in his shirt as well as his flesh. Now Buttercup wasn't normally one to become squeamish over some blood, but this gash was gruesome and ghastly, dried blood beginning to cake around his torn shirt. Butch was sucking the air through his teeth and gripping his side with one hand. Buttercup suppressed a grimace and took a deep breath.

"Fuck, shit, I'm dying… I'm gonna die, this hurts like a mother fucker, that little bitch…"

Butch groaned loudly and fell down onto his opposite side, still clenching the wound with his hands. There were beads of sweat accumulating at his temples and threatening to drip down his face. He was biting his already swollen lip until he could taste the blood in his mouth. Buttercup had no idea what the fuck to do; she had never been in a situation like this before.

"Uh, okay, don't move, I'm gonna go get your dad—"

"No, don't!" he cried, trying to sit up but wincing in pain when he did so. "He can't know about this, he can't!"

Heroic instinct taking over, Buttercup took a step closer to him and pushed his shoulders slightly, causing him to fall back onto his side on the couch. He sat clutching his side and groaning.

Butch was making it nearly impossible for her to think. And Buttercup was becoming extremely ticked off at his attitude. All she wanted was a few more hours of sleep. Was that too much to ask?

Apparently it was, since Butch was groaning louder than before. She should have just left him there, to suffer in his own agony just so she could sleep. But unfortunately, it was that tiny speck of heroine in her that made her shudder with guilt. She couldn't just walk away when he was in so much pain. But what should she do? She'd never treated anyone's wounds before. Blossom was always the medical one. Buttercup had only ever had experience with beating up villains and actually inflicting these kind of wounds. She stared at the gash on Butch's hip with the only worried expression she could ever remember wearing.

She tried to remember everything Blossom had ever done to dress her wounds after a fight. The only thing she could remember is some spray stuff Blossom used to put on her cuts, and it would sting like salt in the wound. But after a few minutes, the sting would wear off, replaced by a numb, soothing feeling. What was that stuff called, goddammit...

"Antiseptic!" she cried suddenly, snapping er fingers together.

While Butch looked at her with a confused, pained expression, Buttercup ran down the hallway into the bathroom. She opened up the medicine cabinet above the sink and rifled through it quickly before she found a light green bottle with the words 'Antiseptic Spray' printed on it. She ran back to the hall closet and pulled out a baby blue towel. Thinking twice, she snatched a second one off the shelf and ran back into the living room, where Butch was still lying on the couch, looking completely zoned out.

"Okay, here, sit up or roll onto your side or something."

To Buttercup's surprise, Butch did exactly what she told him to do. He silently and slowly flipped onto his side with another pained hiss. She gingerly took hold of the hem of his t-shirt and pulled it up and over his head. Strangely, any fantasies she'd ever had of removing Butch's shirt were nothing at all like this. She tried as hard as she could to focus mainly on the gigantic gory gash in his side, not his hard abs and rippling pecs, but it was kind of hard not to with them staring her straight in the face. She was startled out of her trance when he gasped in pain again.

"Oh god, I have no fucking idea what I'm doing..." she muttered under her breath as she poised the spray bottle over his wound. He didn't hear her. Or if he did, he pretended not to have. His face was buried in the couch cushion and he was breathing heavily. His back rose and fell slowly, but shakily. "This is gonna sting."

Carefully, steadily, Buttercup pressed down on the spray. It spritzed out of the end and came in contact with Butch's skin. He arched his back in pain and hissed through his teeth again.

"Augh, what the fuck is that shit?!" he exclaimed, his hands flying to his side again.

"Just hold the fuck still and it'll be over in a second!" she hissed at him, trying not to wake up the entire house.

She grasped his wrists and forcibly pulled them to his chest. He stayed like that for a moment, squirming around, until the soothing effects of the spray started to work on him. He let his back fall against the couch and he let out his breath. Buttercup swiped the first towel over his wound carefully, sopping up the blood. He writhed beneath her touch, the soothing feeling disappearing and that sting returning.

"Fuck, are you trying to kill me?!" he cried, shying away from her touch.

"Just stop moving and it won't hurt as much!" she scolded.

She quickly wiped away the blood from around the wound until it was clean. The blood made his cut seem a lot bigger than it actually was. She sprayed the gash again. He hissed, but didn't move. Using the other towel, Buttercup wrapped up his hip tightly to stop the bleeding. When the towel was wrapped around his waist, she let out a sigh of relief and ran to the bathroom to wash her hands.

When she returned, Butch was examining her home remedy curiously.

"Don't touch it," she ordered him. He drunkenly obeyed.

"Is this how you take care of your little boyfriend?" Butch asked her, catching the girl off guard. "You just wrap his shit in a towel?"

Buttercup blinked. "I don't have a boyfriend," she responded.

He snorted. "Your little black boy booty call or whatever."

Buttercup let out a disbelieving laugh. She couldn't even believe he'd just said that. She would have gotten angry if it weren't for the sheer ridiculousness of his suggestion. Butch thought Liam was her _boyfriend_? How hilarious.

"Liam's not my boyfriend, or a booty call," she said truthfully. "He's gay."

This time, Butch blinked. His side throbbed and he fought the urge to clutch his side again. "He's what...?"

"You heard me."

"He's a faggot..."

Buttercup laughed softly again. "He's got a boyfriend and everything."

At this, her counterpart said nothing. He just stared at the wall behind her. She studied his face. "You're jealous, aren't you?" she teased with a smirk. She immediately knew his answer when his face turned beet red.

"What's there to be jealous of a queer?" he snorted.

"You're jealous!" she accused in a singsong voice.

"Shut the fuck up, I am not jealous of a goddamn faggot!" he cried defensively, twisting towards her with a bit too much force that his side send a pang of pain through to his spine.

Buttercup just laughed. The fact that Butch was denying his jealousy made the fact that much more true.

"I would punch you if my fist wasn't broken," Butch said through gritted teeth. He flexed his fist in front of her face.

Without thinking, Buttercup took his hand into her lap and studied it. The redness of Butch's face didn't change.

"It's not broken, just bruised," she assured him, placing his hand gingerly back on his own lap. "Just like the rest of your body."

"I got in a fight," he said bluntly.

"Yeah?" she said with an eyebrow raised. "With who, my grandmother?"

"No, with your boyfriend," he snapped back. His drunken response wasn't very offensive, she noticed, so another laugh tickled her throat. That didn't make Butch too happy. "Okay, it was Boomer."

That caught her attention. He'd gotten in a fight with Boomer and lost? What sort of sorcery was this? How does this happen? One does not simply lose in a fight to Boomer.

"Back when I was dating Rebecca, she was cheating on me the whole goddamn time. With my mother fucking _brother_." He sighed and leaned back on the arm of the couch, his head spinning. "He'd said he was only in it cuz she was selling to him."

"She was selling to him?" Buttercup repeated, not understanding.

He shot her a look. "Yeah. Weed. Marijuana. She was selling it to him so he'd cheat with her. And he picked weed over his own goddamn _brother_! Fucking pussy."

Buttercup smirked. "And yet, he still beat the shit out of you."

"I swear to god, weed gives the kid fucking immunity or some shit. He was going fucking crazy."

"So you're an emotional drunk?" she said with another teasing smirk.

He glared at her. "Who cares what kind of drunk I am, the point is, I'm wasted as fuck."

"Just don't start crying on me," she responded with a laugh. "I don't think I'd be able to handle another drama queen like Bubbles."

"Fuck you," he countered bluntly.

"Thanks for the offer, but I'll pass," she said casually. She wasn't sure he understood her comeback, though, because he just stared at her, his eyelids drooping.

"Hey, Buttercup," he said softly, his tone of voice changing drastically.

His sudden hushed attitude brought her attention to study his face. His eyes were closed, his head turned slightly to the side, not facing her.

"Hey, what?" she responded just as slowly.

He yawned as she asked it, settling in onto the couch. "Do you think I'm a bad person?"

She blinked. What sort of question was that? What did he mean by it? A bad person? That depended. He sure had a lot of shit wrong with him, but did that make him a bad person? Not necessarily. She figured she'd chance it and act like she didn't know what he meant.

"What the fuck kind of question is that?"

When he tried to move his hand to touch the towel on his waste, she shot her hand out and pulled his arm away. He tried again, and she did the same thing. It was a long time before he replied to her. "Just tell me. Do you think I'm a bad person?"

Her eyes shifted to the left. She knew he couldn't see her face with his eyes closed, but she was still uncomfortable. She felt like a little housewife, patching up her husband's wounds and soothing him as he drifted to sleep on the couch. Next on her agenda was making sandwiches and sweeping the floor. Hell no.

"No… I don't. Why do you ask?"

Ignoring her inquiry, he nodded slowly, his eyes still closed. He tried to touch his wound again. She grabbed his hand and held it firmly at his side for a moment before letting go. "What's your honest opinion of me?"

She snorted and shifted her position as she sat beside him on the floor. "Another goddamn question? Shit, you really are drunk."

He said nothing, just waiting for her answer. Buttercup observed the gentle rise and fall of his chest as he breathed, the sound of his alcohol-smelling breath mixing with the rush of the blood in her ears and the loud thrum of her heart in her chest.

Buttercup tried to piece her answer together in her head. _You're an idiot,_ she thought. _You're stupid, and arrogant. You always think about yourself, and you don't care about anyone else. You're the worst person I've ever met._

He tried to move his hand again. She grabbed it and nearly smacked it forcibly down on the couch. She held it there for a while. Before she could pull her hand away, thinking he'd understood the idea by now, he took hold of her hand and just held it. He didn't even seem to realize he was performing the action. Her face flushed (good thing he couldn't see her face) and she tried to pull her hand away, but he held firm.

After an eternity of this; of nothingness, she said softly, "I think you're… misunderstood. You… you're an idiot, and everybody knows it, but there's some good in you. I can see it… when I look into your eyes…" she swallowed. "But you're arrogant and stupid."

Butch didn't respond. It appeared that he was sleeping. His breathing had slowed significantly and his hand had fallen limp in hers.

Buttercup let out her breath but she didn't let go of his hand. He hadn't heard her. She was reminded of the 'little housewife' scenario again. It made her shudder. What a sickening thought. Liam's words from earlier that night replayed themselves in her head. _"With that attitude you might as well start buying cats now."_ She scowled and pulled her hand out of his limp grasp.

"I'll be a goddamn old cat lady," she muttered to herself, standing up with a stretch. She picked up the antiseptic spray and the other towel and balled it up in her fist. She made to walk away, back to her room to salvage herself some more sleep before morning, when she heard Butch stir.

"If you were a cat lady," he murmured, seemingly in his sleep. He didn't finish the sentence. He stopped there. Buttercup waited a few minutes, standing stark still a few feet away, for him to say something else, but he said nothing.

But she really wanted to know what he was going to say. She took a step forward. "If I was a cat lady… what?" she whispered, feeling foolish. When he didn't say anything, she kicked herself for being so stupid and stalked down the hallway to throw the towel in the hamper. She placed the spray back in the cabinet in the bathroom and walked back into the living room, passing Butch's sleeping form on the couch to climb the stairs.

"I sure as hell wouldn't mind being your cat."

Butch's voice was barely a whisper, but she heard it. Goddamn superhearing. She stopped dead with her foot above the second step, her face paling. Did he just say what she thought he said? She watched his silhouette on the couch, his chest still rising and falling slowly as if he'd never even said anything.

Needless to say, what with Liam's cat lady conversation floating around in her head and Butch's little drunken slips leaving her questioning, she never fell back asleep for more than an hour or two that night. He 'sure as hell wouldn't mind being her cat'? Was that supposed to be some sort of perverted comment? Or had he meant something else by it?

* * *

Butch couldn't decide what hurt the most when he woke up a few hours into the morning. His head was throbbing, his side was stinging, and his entire body was sore. The previous night's events smacked him in the face like an avalanche, sending him flopping backwards onto the couch with a groan.

Rebecca was a dirty, cheating, whore. He couldn't believe she'd cheated on him _with his own brother. _What a two-faced bitch. And Boomer—he'd only done it because she was selling him weed! What the fuck! He rubbed his temples, every little detail from the night before turning fuzzy with the morning light. He remembered asking Boomer if he was going out, and he'd said no. He'd lied. He ended up spotting the blonde at their usual hangout, a club just outside CitysVille. He remembered seeing him all up on some brunette. She turned out to be Rebecca. Butch had been wasted. He'd wanted to forget all about the dinner, all about stupid Buttercup and her stupid guitarist. Turns out, picking a drunken fight with Boomer was not the best of ideas. His brother hadn't been drunk, but he sure was fucked up and high. That didn't explain how Butch had lost to him so badly, but still.

Everything after that was a little hazy to Butch. He slightly recalled somehow getting onto his destroyed motorcycle, speeding past an alley and trying to bribe some of the Gangrene Gang to kill his brother. Luckily the Gang wouldn't agree to it, but unluckily, Butch had idiotically tried to pick a fight with the five of them. He assumed that was where the gigantic gash on his side had come from. He barely remembered arriving at home, stumbling through the door, and flopping onto the couch. He faintly remembered the stinging in his side, the bleeding to death, and the hissing sound his breath made as he sucked it through his teeth. What he couldn't seem to remember for his life was the soothing voice that had talked to him, calmed him down. He could have sworn he'd spoken back, but what was said? No matter how hard he thought, he couldn't remember for the life of him.

He figured he'd just lay on the couch forever, until his father or Brick had to scrape his rotten corpse off the cushions and toss him into the dumpster. But he'd only been lying there a few minutes before his father's voice broke through his eardrums.

"Great news!" Erik exclaimed, clapping his hands together. Each clap was like someone was taking a hammer to Butch's brain. He clutched his temples with his hands and pulled the blanket over his side so his father wouldn't see it.

"What the fuck, Dad, I'm fucking sleeping here, dammit!"

"Well, you'd better get used to waking up early, because you're starting school next week!"

His father sounded so enthusiastic. Butch couldn't believe his ears.

"Fuck school, what happened to home school?" Butch moaned.

"Your home school teacher quit because you're impossible," Erik said bluntly, kicking the side of the couch to make Butch get up. Butch groaned.

"Where the fuck are we going?"

"It's that private school down the street, Crown Victoria."

What. The. Fuck. "A fucking _private_ school?" Butch moaned. "What the fuck do I look like, some goody two-shoes fucktard?"

"Don't whine about it, you're going whether you want to or not. You and your brothers."

An angry fire flared in Butch's chest as his father mentioned his brothers. Boomer was a fucking dead man. He couldn't put them in school together. Butch would kill Boomer before the first week was up.

"And Buttercup will be joining you there, too," Erik added cheerily.

"You're fucking kidding."

This couldn't possibly get any fucking worse.

"And since she refused to go without her sisters, I agreed to send them there with her as well."

Nope. He'd spoken too soon. It could definitely get worse. So much fucking worse.

"And, Butch?" Erik said as he was leaving.

What could his father possibly want to take from him now? He'd already lost control of his dignity, his freedom, his motorcycle… what now?

"Take out the trash."

"Fuck."

* * *

_I'd love to hear your thoughts on this chapter. Leave a review! :)_


	13. News and Lies

**Title: Under a Harlequin Spotlight**

**Chapter Thirteen: News and Lies**

**Rating: T**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing at all, y'all.**

**A/N: DON'T KILL ME. O.O**

**I am so sorry I haven't updated in forever. i know you probably all hate me. But if you don't, then I've got a semi-informative chapter for you. :) I'm all done with the musical I was in now so I'll have much more time to focus on this story!**

**One quick announcement though: ENTER MY CHRISTMAS CONTEST OR DIE! Info on my profile. I would honestly LOVE it if you entered. I LOVE LOVE LOVE Christmas stories and things. Fluffiness is my weakness. Write something! Even if it's a sentence! It still counts as an entry!**

**Okay, I'm done, please read now. :)**

**xoxo -ml**

* * *

**Chapter Thirteen: News and Lies**

It was actually quite peculiar how drastically the weather changed with the coming of the autumn season. It felt to Buttercup like only yesterday she was diving into the swimming pool owned by none other than the RRB. Or maybe that actually was yesterday, she couldn't keep track anymore. All she knew was that when Erik brought home a dazzling white polo shirt with a matching black-and-white plaid pleated skirt for her to wear, she wanted to shoot herself in the foot because she knew her summer was officially over.

She looked ridiculous in the uniform. She hated the skirt. She hated skirts to begin with but this was especially hideous. The white polo with the school crest on the chest wasn't much better, either. Along with the normal, bland school uniform came an array of brightly coloured knee socks, which were the only plus side to the outfit. Buttercup separated all of the colours into 'green' and 'not green' and decided that she would only ever wear the green ones and give the other colours to Bubbles or Blossom.

Speaking of her sisters, Buttercup had called them as soon as it had been settled that she was going to school. They told her they were going as well; they were being transferred from their old school at Pokey Oaks High and shipped off to this fancy old private school that Buttercup could just tell she was going to despise.

And just as soon as the school year had snuck up on her, the chilly weather did as well, causing her to regret her no-cover uniform skirt and knee-highs tenfold. She grabbed her big baggy green hoodie and threw it over her polo along with a pair of black sweatpants she'd seen laying on the floor in her closet the night before. They weren't hers, she knew, for she couldn't recall ever owning any such article of clothing, but she figured that since they were in her closet she had a right to wear them.

Finally, Buttercup decided she had procrastinated enough. She let out a heavy sigh and snatched her backpack up from the floor. After peeking at herself in the mirror for a split second and combing a hand through her short black locks, she swung open her bedroom door and slunk down the stairs to wait for the rest of the lot.

She saw Boomer as soon as she'd entered the sitting room. He was yawning something awful and his medium-length golden hair was dull and messy, but from the neck down he looked crisp and clean as a little catholic schoolboy. He had on a light blue button-up dress shirt with a deep cerulean tie to coordinate. His khakis were pressed and pleated at the middle of the knees and his black dress shoes were so shiny, Buttercup thought she might be able to see her own reflection.

It hadn't been very easy for Buttercup to accept the fact that the blonde boy had somehow beat the living shit out of his brother over some drugs. She still found it crazy and unreal that Boomer was even 'in the know' about those kinds of things, but she wasn't about to be one to judge. To make matters worse, Boomer had been giving everyone in the house the silent treatment ever since that brutal night last week. Buttercup had tried to talk to him once or twice, but the blonde simply wouldn't have it. He was acting like a rotten, selfish son of a bitch, and she sure as hell did not like it.

He didn't even look up as she entered the room and leaned over the back of the couch where he sat. Erik nearly skipped into the room a moment later, such a gigantic smile on his face you'd think he'd won the lottery.

"Good morning, Buttercup!" he sang cheerfully, scooping his jacket off a hanger in the closet near the door. "Good morning, Boomer."

Buttercup watched Boomer for a reaction. When he said nothing in response to his father's greeting and sank onto the sitting room couch cushions, she followed suit and leaned down over the back of the couch, her eyelids drooping.

Butch was the next to join them in the sitting room. He sauntered in casually, dressed similarly to Boomer, with the exception that his uniform shirt was white and he accessorized with a navy pullover sweater. Just underneath his chin, a forest green tie poked out of the v-neck of his sweater. His hair was slightly less messy than Boomer's but messy nonetheless. It was obvious that he'd at least ran his fingers through it after he'd gotten out of bed, unlike Boomer, who appeared to have rolled out of bed and fallen into his uniform.

Things had been the most awkward between Butch and Boomer. One would think that as soon as Butch's injuries had healed up enough, he'd be the first to send fists flying towards Boomer, trying to send him to his grave. But perhaps Butch didn't really care as much as he'd originally thought. He was, in fact, more upset with his ex-girlfriend than he was with his own brother, supporting the fact that yeah, weed is awesome and so are girls, so he'd probably fuck his brother over too, given the chance.

Still, it was mainly Boomer who refused to say a word to Butch, so the brothers remained silent around one another.

And of course, Erik noticed nothing at all in his naivety.

Walking completely into the room, Butch stood by the door, eyeing Buttercup with a weary, tired eye.

"Are you wearing my pants...?" Butch asked her, slightly uncomfortable with the awkward question. He shifted his weight into his other foot as she shrugged.

"Were your pants on the floor in my closet?" she quipped carelessly.

"I didn't say you could wear them."

"They were in _my_ closet. Therefore I have a right to wear them."

"You just wanted an excuse to get in my pants," Butch retorted with a tired smirk.

Buttercup ignored him. "I don't see why I couldn't just go home and get ready for school with my sisters," she said glumly.

"Me either," Butch muttered under his breath. Buttercup shot him a warning look, but he didn't quite catch it with his eyes closed mid-yawn.

"Quit your whining, both of you." Erik sifted through a tall stack of papers in his hands. "Okay, I think I've got everything. Brick, are you ready to go? You're gonna make us late!" he called up the staircase after his straggling son.

As they waited, Butch leaned casually against the doorframe, still glaring at Buttercup's pants while Boomer slumped down on the couch and ignored everybody. Buttercup drummed her fingers on the back of the couch, trying her very best not to fall asleep herself. Erik bustled around, picking things up and putting them down. He kind of reminded Buttercup of Bubbles, the way he hurried around the place and touched nearly everything in sight. She could tell he was nervous about sending his sons to school, for she knew he'd never sent them to an actual school in years—let alone an uptight private school.

As Buttercup drummed her fingers, her muscles picked up on a rhythm and she began to hum to herself. "Four years, you think for sure that's all you've got to endure..." she started to sing out loud. Butch shifted his weight again and Erik checked his watch. "All the total dicks, the stuck-up chicks, so superficial, so immature..."

Boomer yawned. "Somebody shut her off, it's too early for this bullshit."

Though surprised that Boomer had said a word, Buttercup was still slightly offended and reached over the couch to smack Boomer on the top of the head, hard. He pretended not to notice and shrunk down lower onto the couch.

"Boomer, be nice," Erik scolded. "And sit up, you're wrinkling your uniform."

"Yes, mother," Boomer responded sassily, flicking Buttercup on the arm but doing as his father had instructed.

Before the girl could fight back, Brick came bounding down the stairs, two seemingly-identical red ties in his hands. He wore the same uniform as Butch, minus the v-neck sweater. "Which tie do you guys think I should wear?" he asked the general public, "the red one with the thin white stripes, or the plain metallic red?"

"Who the fuck cares," Butch muttered, "it's just school, not the White House."

"The plain red one," Erik said quickly, pretending not to notice the glare Brick sent his brother. The redhead tossed the striped tie over the railing on the stairs and began to tie the plain one around his neck. "Are we ready to go now?"

"Yes," Buttercup, Butch and Brick all said in unison, each straightening up and gathering their things. Butch kicked Boomer, who had apparently fallen asleep on the couch. The blonde boy jerked awake immediately and whipped his head around frantically.

"Huh? Where's the fire?"

Butch rolled his eyes again. "School, you idiot, let's go already."

A look of relief washed over Boomer's face and his cheeks flushed. "Oh, yeah." Then he, too, picked up his backpack and followed his brothers and Buttercup out the door.

* * *

The first day of school was a rather uneventful one for Butch. He had one class with Brick, that was Probability and Statistics. Butch wasn't sure why his brother had chosen to take Prob and Stats; most likely because he was a lazy ass and didn't want to work hard his senior year.

Considering Brick being a slacker this year and Butch just not caring either way, they both had hardly any classes with Boomer, who was taking all of the AP classes he could, because he wanted to 'have a good future' or something stupid like that. Screw future when you've got enough inheritance to purchase an island, in Butch's opinion.

Either way, Butch shared a lunch hour with Boomer and saw both of his brothers in his sixth hour class (Ceramics, a total blow-off). Brick and Boomer also shared a study hall third hour, which left Butch alone in his own study hall with a bunch of underclassmen.

Butch knew that although he had been pissed at Boomer for helping his ex cheat on him, he couldn't exactly hold a grudge on his own brother forever. So as soon as the two of them realized that they shared a lunch hour without Brick, they knowingly met each others' eyes in form of an apology, and proceeded to pretend like it never happened.

Besides, Butch especially didn't want word to get out that he'd let his own little brother beat him almost to death. People were already getting suspicious over the black eye he sported. He figured he didn't want to make it any more of a deal than it had been.

Butch and Boomer discussed their first three classes over lunch, since Brick had a different lunch period than them, to his great dismay. In their last hour Ceramics class, though, Brick joined the two to discuss their classes, discovering that Boomer had plenty of classes with Blossom (not at all surprisingly so) and Butch had two classes with Bubbles. Boomer sulked when he realized he hadn't a single class with the blonde puff, but perked up a bit when Butch reminded him that he'd seen her in their lunch, along with the other two 'Puffs. This comment caused Brick to go pale and mutter something about wanting his classes changed.

It was the third PowerPuff sister the three 'Ruffs seemed to keep their mouths shut about. Brick and Boomer were afraid to mention BC at first because they weren't exactly sure what terms their brother was on with her. Their conversation danced around the subject of the green 'Puff for quite sometime, until Butch finally snapped and blurted, "I've got two classes with Buttercup."

Boomer and Brick exchanged a relieved look before they both replied at the same time, respectively:

"I've got one."

"I've got two."

Butch didn't react to his brothers' responses right away. He peered down at the syllabus their ceramics teacher had handed out only recently and pretended to study it carefully.

"What class do you have with her, Boomer?" he suddenly asked monotonously without looking up.

"Uh, study hall. With Brick." Boomer's eyes shifted sharply to the left as he said this. Brick yawned his confirmation.

"I've also got English with her," the redhead added.

"She's in my third and fourth hours. Psych and History." Butch still didn't even raise his gaze as he shared this information with his brothers.

Boomer's eyes shifted towards Brick, who nodded his head. But neither of them said anything.

And that was all they ever spoke on the matter.

The 'Puffs, however, had quite a bit to discuss over lunch.

"There are no cute boys in any of my classes!" Bubbles said with an exasperated sigh. "Not a single one!"

Buttercup and Blossom rolled their eyes at each other. "Lucky you," Buttercup said sharply, taking a huge bite of her sandwich. Salami and muenster cheese, her favourite. She just wished the Professor had made it rather than one of Erik's kitchen slaves or whatever. "I'm being stalked and stared at like I'm some celebrity or something."

"You are, in a way," Blossom pointed out. "All these kids know the RowdyRuffs and Mr. Johnson, I'm sure, because of their fame. And now that they know you're staying with them it's brought up a bunch of talk. That and the fact that you're an aspiring singer. Some of them may have even heard of you."

Her sister's remark definitely did not soothe the burning feeling in Buttercup's stomach as a group of girls walked by their table in a huddle, whispering fiercely and casting looks at her over their shoulders.

"But it's not lucky at all!" Bubbles whined, obviously trying to hint something in to her sisters. "Boomer is so cute..." Resting her cheek on her hand, she twiddled her fingers around the rim of her water bottle with a pout.

Buttercup almost gagged. "Okay, stop, ew. You're making me lose my appetite."

"But he is!" Bubbles protested with a half giggle, half sigh.

Her mouth full of barbecue flavoured potato chips, Buttercup scoffed. "That's like if I had a brother, and you're saying he's cute. Just ew."

With this comment, Blossom's eyes snapped up from the book she was reading to shoot Buttercup a questioning look. "Are you saying the RowdyRuff Boys are like your _brothers _now?" she asked with a sickened face.

"No, I... Well I guess, sorta, I don't fucking know." Buttercup groaned and shoved another handful of chips in her mouth. "How come you aren't eating lunch, Blossom?"

"I am. It's Shakespeare," she replied smartly, gesturing to her book. "Now stop trying to change the subject!"

"I think it's cute that you're so close with those boys," Bubbles chimed in happily. "It's almost like you're their little sister!"

Buttercup's eyes shot daggers at Bubbles, but the blonde girl refused to be fazed by them. She took a bite of her apple and chewed thoughtfully.

"They are nothing like brothers," Buttercup protested, slamming her soda bottle down on the table forcibly. "More like the exact opposite."

"They're sisters?" Blossom smirked.

Buttercup turned her glare on her redheaded sister now, who avoided her eyes and went back to her book. The green 'Puff raised her bottle of soda to her lips and began to suck the foam off the top.

"That's right, you're, like, 'dating' Butch, aren't you?"

Bubbles' completely air headed comment caused Buttercup to choke on the foam and spit it all over Blossom's book.

"_Buttercup_!" Blossom screeched, hopping backwards, nearly falling off the bench trying to avoid the spray of soda. She tried to save her book, but poor Shakespeare was completely doused in the sticky beverage.

Buttercup ignored Blossom's desperate whines about her book, staring incredulously at Bubbles, who was laughing at Buttercup's face.

"What the fuck, Bubbles, I already told you _it's not like that_." She wiped her mouth with the back of her sleeve and scoffed at her sister's giggle.

"You're turning all red, BC," Bubbles said laughingly. "That means you're lying!"

"Actually that means I'm going to jump across the table and strangle you to death."

"Buttercup," Blossom warned, using Bubbles' napkin to sop up her now sorry-looking pages.

The blonde playfully stuck her tongue out at her sister, who responded by gnashing her teeth.

"It's alright to be shy about it," Bubbles said passively, shrugging her shoulders. "He is cute, after all!"

"Bubbles." Buttercup shut her eyes and rubbed her temples with her fingertips. "For the last time, I am not dating that... That _idiot_, and I never will." She sighed. "And that has to be the eightieth time you've called something cute in this conversation."

"I'm allowed to say that, aren't I?" Bubbles asked innocently.

"No. You're not. Blossom, tell her to stop."

Blossom finally raised her eyes from her soggy book to meet her sisters' and sighed. "In all honesty, Buttercup, I think you two would make an adorable couple." She grinned innocently at Bubbles, who giggled. Buttercup's jaw dropped.

"Everyone's an idiot." With a scowl, Buttercup stood up from the table and stomped over to the trash bin, where she threw the remains of her lunch in and huffed away.

And that was all the Girls spoke on the matter.

* * *

After school, since Buttercup had no car for her own, she had the option of hitching a ride with the Boys in Brick's Lincoln or simply walking back to their house. Since she realistically didn't want to do either, she met up with her sisters at their car (still the same old black Taurus), completely expecting them to ask her if she wanted to come home with them to visit the Professor. When neither of her sisters said anything about their father, Buttercup decided to come straight out with the question.

"So are you guys cool with me coming home and seeing the Professor or do you really just want me gone?"

Blossom and Bubbles exchanged a worried look. Buttercup saw it.

"What?" the green 'Puff asked with a scowl. "I was kidding, you don't have to take everything I say so serio—"

"No, Buttercup, we were just... Uh..." Bubbles turned to Blossom for help.

"You were obviously kidding," the redhead said simply. "You just can't come visit the Professor today. He's in a science fair. Across the country, I think he said in Utah or something..."

What Buttercup didn't notice was the frantic look in Blossom's eyes as she begged Bubbles to play along with the lie. The blonde's eyes widened and she nodded, her mouth turning into a great big 'O'.

"Oh yeah! He's in Utah! I almost forgot!" Bubbles nodded almost a bit too enthusiastically and smiled a bit too widely for Buttercup's comfort. But it wasn't really out of character for Bubbles to act so cheery about something like this, so the least Buttercup could do was squint her eyes and shift her gaze from Blossom to Bubbles, suspicious but unaccusing.

"Well, when's he gonna be back?" the green 'Puff inquired.

Blossom didn't miss a beat. "Not for a while." Being Blossom, she knew exactly how to be sure Buttercup didn't suspect a thing. "He's the central presenter at this convention, the main topic is ionic compounds and cubic ion diagrams! Apparently there's a new study testing the theory that some alloys are actually conductors of—"

"You know, Blossom, that's really interesting and all, but I'd rather be doing anything else in the whole world than listening to you talk, so I'm gonna go this way now." And with those words, Buttercup had flown off in the other direction before either Blossom or Bubbles could get a word in edgewise.

Blossom turned to Bubbles with stern conviction. "You almost had her onto us!" she scolded her younger sister, who shrank back into her shoes.

"I'm sorry Blossom, I didn't realize—"

"It's fine, just watch what you say next time." Blossom sighed and ran her fingers through her hair.

Bubbles grasped the elbow of Blossom's sleeve tightly between her fingers and dropped her voice to a low whisper. "You know, we're gonna have to tell her the truth sooner or later."

The leader let out another heavy sigh and dropped her chin, her long pumpkin-coloured hair shading her face like a veil and glistening in the afternoon sun. "I know," she replied dejectedly. "I just want to stall it for as long as I can."

* * *

Buttercup had been through tons of ridiculousness during the course of her stay with the RRB and their father, but this was where she absolutely, positively, one hundred percent drew the line.

"There's no _way_ I'm doing a pep assembly."

"Oh, come on, Buttercup," Erik urged. "You can develop a name at your new school and everything."

"I don't want to develop a name at school," she whined. "I just want to be famous."

He sighed. "You're not getting anywhere with that attitude. After all, most of your fans are going to be your peers. What better time and place than this to gain followers?"

"You make it sound like I'm some sort of cult," she mumbled quietly. He pretended not to hear her and fished his wallet out of his pocket.

"I'll pay you."

She snorted. "You're gonna _pay_ me to sing at some dumb school pep assembly?"

"Well _they_ certainly aren't," he said nonchalantly. "It's for the benefit of the school."

Buttercup had to admit, she was tempted by Erik's offer. It was dirty, but she had had her eye on those lime-and-green skinny jeans at Hot Topic for quite a while...

"Deal."

Erik grinned. "I knew you'd comply sometime. I've already posted your setlist up in the recording studio. Head down there now, if you'd like, and have a look. Let me know what you think."

She had to admit, the man worked fast.

But she wasn't in the mood for singing. It was really weird, considering the fact that every other day of her life she'd kill for an excuse just to head down to the studio and be alone for a few hours. But for some reason, she just wasn't feeling it. She decided that since she didn't have any homework (given the fact that it was only the first day of school), she would explore the rest of the gigantic house that she hadn't yet visited. And yes, that included the left wing, where the boys spent most of their time ignoring her.

But holding her breath, today Buttercup found the left wing empty and silent, with absence of the usual loud, competitive yells and diminishing battle cries. She held back her breath in hopes that she would find the rooms empty.

The first door, a plain, simple thing gilded with white paint and a brass handle, swung open easily at her touch to reveal a clean, organized and sophisticated room. Buttercup automatically assumed this room belonged to Brick, and upon further investigation (involving the mind-numbing task of thumbing through his dresser drawers), decided that he had no secrets and left immediately, before her brain could be fried to mush from staring at all the multicoloured ties.

The second room Buttercup entered (the door was left wide open) must have been the entertainment room. The place looked like a tornado had completely ran it to the ground. There was trash everywhere, on the pool table, on the couches, chairs and floors, everywhere but in the trash bin. She stepped inside the room hesitantly, not sure what sorts of biohazards awaited her here.

She noticed the television had been left on, tuned to some bodily workout station that she didn't doubt had been chosen by Butch. He thought he was the coolest guy now that he had a long, thin scar stretching the length of his abdomen. He called it his 'battle wound' and now did not hesitate to saunter about the house shirtless, flaunting his scar like a prize trophy.

The game room held no secrets, just trash, so Buttercup got out of there before the smell got to her head. Was it off-limits to the maid or something? Or was that an accumulative mess from only a day? She didn't really want to find out.

The third and final door Buttercup knew to be Boomer's room. Butch's room was in the right wing, near her own, so that left only one more suite. The door was similar to Brick's, shut but not locked, and she pushed it open silently and stepped inside.

Boomer's room was a bit messy, but the mess had some routine to it. Shirts were flung about the room in a pattern of sorts, which Buttercup found to be very strange. She walked around the edge of the room, gently running a hand along the corner of his dresser, armoire, nightstand and bed.

When she reached the opposite end of the room, she noticed Boomer's cell phone sitting on the windowsill.

Instinctively, Buttercup's eyes whirled around the room to make certain it really was empty. She was going to ignore it and move on, really she was, but right at that moment she had been looking at it, it lit up with a text message.

Being Buttercup, she figured it couldn't really be all that bad if she just had a quick sneak peek at the message. He would never know. With absolutely no internal argumentation, she snatched his phone from the windowsill and opened the text.

It was from Butch.

The text read "idfk its crazy dude". That was it.

The weirdness of the brothers' relationship was too strange for Buttercup to completely understand. She crinkled her nose at the nonchalant message from Butch and decided it wouldn't be _so_ bad if she just flipped back a few texts to discover the context.

As she tapped through the messages, she discovered that the conversation was really quite long, extending over a good twenty text messages. The bulk of the conversation involved some girl in Butch's History class whose name the boys never mentioned. Buttercup scrolled through these texts boredly, until she did a double take at the sight of her own name.

The brothers' conversation went a little something like this—

Boomer: "what about your love life bro"

Butch: "it doesnt even exist"

Boomer: "not even in the house?"

Butch: "what?"

Boomer: "dont try to lie to me we both know you have a thing for bc"

Butch: "idk what ur talking about"

Boomer: "you said so yourself to brick and me"

Butch: "yea, I guess kinda"

Boomer: "so? get it bro!"

Butch: "idfk its crazy dude"

A million and sixteen questions popped into Buttercup's head after reading and re-reading the conversation twenty times over. How were Boomer and Butch back to being such good friends after what Boomer did to him? Why were they talking about her like this? What gave Boomer the impression that Butch was interested in her? Was Butch _really_ interested? What had he said to his brothers that revealed this? But most importantly: what did he mean by 'it's crazy'? What was crazy? And why the hell didn't he know?!

Buttercup was just about to start searching Boomer's other texts to see if there was anything else that could allude to Butch's meaning, but at that moment, she heard a noise behind her.

"May I ask what the fuck you're doing?" Boomer asked, stepping rather calmly into the room.

Fuck. She was caught.

"Uh, yeah, you know what, this is exactly what it looks like." Buttercup shrugged and held out his cell phone to him.

Boomer licked his lips and he snatched it out of her hand, examining it.

"You were reading my messages to Butch?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

She shifted her weight. "Uh. Yep."

"Interesting." He flicked through a few of the messages she'd only just read. "Did you read all of them?"

"I... Why?"

He shrugged, a tight grin forming at his mouth. "No reason. Read anything that caught your attention?"

"Kinda. Like what?"

"I think you know." He smiled secretively at her, leaving against the dresser and tucking his phone underneath his crossed arms.

"Fuck, I don't play these stupid games dude. Just tell me what you're referring to."

"You want info, you're gonna have to give me some in return."

Buttercup shot him a confused glance. "What?"

Now it was Boomer's turn to shift his weight uncomfortably. He dropped his gaze to the floor and unfolded his arms.

"I want... Information."

"Information? On what?"

He cleared his throat. "What's your sister's bra size?"

Buttercup coughed in disbelief. "You're not serious?"

"You want dirt, you've gotta give me some in return."

"You're disgusting, Boomer," she scoffed, trying to push past him out of the room. But he blocked the door with one arm before she could get anywhere.

"Hey, do you wanna know how Butch feels about you or not?"

Her heart jumped into her throat. What the hell! Boomer was one dirty gambler. But she had to know.

Scowling, she peeped her head around Boomer's arm to make sure no one was in the hallway and shut the door behind her. She slunk back into the room and sat down on his bed, not looking at him as she answered.

"Thirty-four C," she muttered. She watched his expression brighten out of the corner of her eye. "Now tell me what you know!"

"Why do you want to know so badly?" he asked promptly, propping himself up across from her on the top of the dresser.

She scoffed again. "Why did _you_ want to know my sister's bra size?"

His face flushed. "I have my reasons," he muttered. She just raised her eyebrows at him. "Alright, fine," he said finally with a sigh. "I'll tell you what you want to know. But you're gonna be disappointed, I'm afraid it's not as juicy as you might think."

"Just tell me before I knock your lights out," she growled.

"Right, well, basically all that one day we were teasing Butch about being mothered by you after... uh... he got beat up..." He scratched the back f his neck and Buttercup smirked at his uncomfortableness. He cleared his throat and continued. "Um. Yeah, so then he told us to shut up or whatever, then Brick asked him if he actually liked you or something and he went all pale and got mad at us for saying that, but we could really tell he was just denying his feelings, and so he left and we haven't really talked since. Well, excluding those texts."

He took a deep breath. It seemed like a lot for the blonde boy to get off his chest. Buttercup just say there, observing his face, trying to come up with some response to that.

"We'll that's lame," she finally said defensively. "I thought you were gonna say he went crazy or something! Stupid story."

She got up to leave, trying to give Boomer the impression that she was not at all interested in what he had to say, but he saw through her façade in an instant.

With a smirk, he hopped down from the dresser and stretched his arms, remarking, "You say it's lame now, but I'm willing to bet any money you feel the same way about him."

Buttercup felt her face drain as she stopped dead in her tracks at his comment. But it didn't faze her long.

"I hope you've got something interesting planned for that information I gave you," she said dramatically. "It wasn't very worth it, in my opinion. I mean, you should've asked for an actual bra or something. I've got plenty of those."

Before Boomer could even think of cursing under his breath in consideration of this idea, Buttercup had swept out of his room, leaving behind nothing but a quickly fading green streak.

* * *

The pep rally passed with a rather uneventful flourish of recorded guitar strums and one single, ten second-long note that raised the eyebrows of a few interested members of the student body. Buttercup's consistent smile and glorious voice stunned the crowd into instant fandom, or at least, most of the crowd. Even the 'Ruffs sat in the bleachers of the school gym, each with widened eyes and a drooping jaw.

"You were fantastic!" Bubbles cheered. Buttercup thanked her with a hug.

"Really nice job, Buttercup," Blossom chimed. "I'm so proud of you." To this, Buttercup nodded and squeezed her sister's shoulders tightly.

"I thought that last note was really sweet!" Boomer said encouragingly, slapping her on the back. Buttercup beamed.

"Really neat. One of the best you've ever done," Brick chided. At this, she blushed.

Even Butch was quite speechless.

"Wow," was all he could say. "Wow. That was... Magnificent."

She laughed. "Thanks a lot, you guys."

Over the next few days, Buttercup's concert was the talk of the school. To every one of her fans (and there were many, many more than she had expected), she grinned and thanked with the enthusiasm of herself times ten. A few people even asked for an autograph. She was loving the attention, absolutely eating it up. It got to the point where she was skipping out on lunch just to talk with her peers, and being late to class because she'd been mobbed by students in the hallways. But the smile never once left her face. She was on good terms with the Boys, her peers were accepting her, and she got to see her sisters every day. The only down side was not being able to see the Professor. She wondered where he was, and how his convention was going. She waited exactly a month before she decided to ask about him again.

"Isn't this fantastic, girls?" she sang to her sisters one day, when she actually had time for lunch with them.

Bubbles smiled and nodded, but Blossom rolled her eyes.

"Isn't _what_ fantastic, exactly?" the redhead asked skeptically. "The fact that we never see you anymore? Or the fact that you've gone insane with popularity and act like you're too cool for us?"

Buttercup scowled. "Well sorr-y, miss grumpy pants," she humphed. "I just thought you'd be a bit more excited for me, considering I've completely proved you and Professor wrong." She took a sip of her Gatorade. "You said I would never be famous. And you were wrong!"

Blossom opened her mouth, but Bubbles, ever the quiet one, beat her to it and surprised the two by making a point.

"You technically aren't really famous, Buttercup," she said softly. "So a few hundred people know you at your school, big deal. You're not famous."

Buttercup was speechless. Blossom nodded enthusiastically. "Exactly!"

The raven-haired girl folded her arms across her chest with a pout.

"Well, what do you know anyways. I'm still doing more than you or Professor ever said I would." The other two girls simply shrugged. "Hey, speaking of which, it's been like a month, right? He's gotta be back from his trip by now."

Blossom and Bubbles shared that same nervous look again. This time, Buttercup caught it.

"What?" she asked. "Is he home? He is, isn't he? When do I get to see him?"

There was a long, painful silence before Blossom took a deep breath and spoke for the first time on the matter.

"He's not at home," she admitted. "But I figure it's about time we take you to see him."

* * *

_If you review, you will get a candy cane. c:_


	14. They Say That Townsville's Got No Soul

**Title: Under a Harlequin Spotlight**

**Chapter Fourteen: They Say That Townsville's Got No Soul**

**Pairing(s): Pure, unadulterated Buttercup and Butch. You're welcome. **

**Rating: T, because it's bad**

**Disclaimer: The PowerPuff Girls Christmas special was on TV this morning. I cried because I missed it. If I owned them, this wouldn't have been an issue.**

**A/N: Merry Christmas! I hope you all enjoy your action-packed gift. :) Enter my Christmas contest. Chocolate is included.**

**xoxo ~ml**

* * *

**Chapter Fourteen: They Say That Townsville's Got No Sou**

The hallways were so bright, the lights blinded her and her black Keds squeaked loudly against the linoleum floor. There were doors on either side of the hall, reminding Buttercup of a hospital. But she thought about that for a minute. Blossom and Bubbles couldn't be taking her to a hospital, could they? Professor wasn't in the hospital... was he?

"Can you guys please just tell me where we are?" Buttercup groaned, running her hand through her hair with a sigh.

Blossom walked on with a stiffness in her back, and Bubbles hummed quietly to herself, counting the doors to her left. Neither girl said a word in response to their sister's question. Buttercup groaned, and seeing as she wasn't getting an answer out of these two, turned her attention to a man and a woman walking a few feet in front of Blossom.

The woman was holding the man's hand, smiling kindly at him and leading him down the hall. She was rubbing his back with her other hand and whispering in his ear as they walked along. The man, however, looked as though he was a little child, his wide, fearful eyes scanning his surroundings with caution and great curiosity. Occasionally, he would reach his hand out to touch something, or try and walk a certain way, but the woman would lead him away or guide his hand down. When he wasn't pointing or trying to reach something with his other hand, he was eating it.

Buttercup was disgusted. She caught up again with her sisters, closing the gap between them and putting her hand on Bubbles' shoulder. When she did so, the blonde girl gave a start, but let out a sigh of relief when she realized it was only her sister.

"I don't like this place," Buttercup admitted to her sisters as they turned down a corridor. "It's like the loony bin or something. What are we doing here, anyways? Did the Professor need to do an experiment on crazy people or something?"

"Right in here," Blossom said quickly, gesturing to an open on their left. She stood to the side and allowed her sisters to file in, walking inside and shutting the door behind herself. "Don't talk too loud, you'll scare him."

Buttercup snorted, but she spoke in a soft tone. "Who's him?"

"Hey Professor," they heard Bubbles whisper. She was off in the corner of the large room, hiding behind a long, dark screen. Blossom walked towards her and pulled the screen away, watching Buttercup's facial reaction as she did so.

The first thing Buttercup noticed was the bed sheets. A bright, obnoxious yellow, with green and blue polka dots scattered all over the print. It was hideous. But she couldn't look away from it. She knew if she looked up from that bedspread, she'd have to face other things. Like her sisters. Or the fact that it was, in fact, the Professor, lying there in the ugly coloured bed, probably resting on the same ugly coloured pillow, tucked underneath the same ugly coloured sheets. Buttercup didn't want to look up for the life of her. But she knew she'd have to sometime. Plus, Blossom was making her really uncomfortable with all the staring she was doing.

So she allowed her expectant green eyes to trail slowly up the bed to the man sitting up in it. The Professor had a bowl in one hand and a spoon in the other, and he was heartily eating out of the bowl. He didn't even look up at her. Buttercup let out half of the breath she'd been holding. At least he was alive.

Her eyes flickered to Blossom. Her sister's pink eyes darted from Buttercup's face to the Professor, as if signaling something to her. Buttercup knew she wanted her to say something to him. She cleared her throat lightly once, twice, then eventually three times. Blossom glared at her sternly, and she shrugged in response.

She turned her attention back to the Professor. She took a deep breath, pretending not to notice Bubbles' hand softly caressing their father's arm.

"Uh, hey, Professor," she said hesitantly, not exactly sure what she should say.

Her father looked up from his bowl, a curious look in his eyes.

"Another one?" he asked, looking from Bubbles to Blossom curiously.

Bubbles nodded, still caressing his arm softly. "Yes, you remember Buttercup, right?"

"Remember me?" Buttercup spluttered, absentmindedly wringing her hands. "Wha—"

Blossom quickly shushed her, nudging her with her elbow. Buttercup's eyes snapped to the Professor again. He was looking at her curiously now, as if trying to remember who she was.

"Buttercup?" the man repeated, testing the word on his tongue. Bubbles and Blossom held their breath, and although Buttercup wasn't sure why, she did, too. After a moment, the man seemed to have completely forgotten exactly what he was trying to remember. His eyes glazed over, he blinked a few times, and he went right back to devouring whatever was in the bowl.

Buttercup was worried now. "Okay, somebody please tell me what the hell is going on here or I'm gonna be seriously pissed off."

Blossom and Bubbles exchanged a look. Blossom sighed, nodded, and grasped Buttercup's arm tightly, leading her out of the room for a moment.

"Alright, Buttercup, this isn't going to be easy to take in, so I suggest you take a seat." She gestured to two chairs just outside the room in the hallway that had gone unnoticed by the green 'Puff on the way in.

Buttercup scowled. "I'm not gonna take a damn seat, Blossom, until you tell me what the /fuck/ is going on here!"

Blossom pursed her lips, her eyes strained. "Please, Buttercup, calm down and take a seat. You're making a scene."

"I'm not making a fucking scene, Blossom, but I'm this close to doing just that." She held her hand out to show her sister _exactly_ how little patience she had for this. She just wanted to know about the Professor, and what had him acting this way.

The auburn-haired girl sighed heavily, sinking into one of the chairs outside the door. It was then that Buttercup got a closer look at her sister. For the past couple of weeks, Buttercup hadn't noticed her sister's stress because she'd been so distracted with her music. But the leader of the group didn't look too good. She had dark, menacing circles under her eyes, and deep creases were etched into the corners of her mouth. She had a permanent worrisome look on her face, and her usual tickle-me-pink irises were dull and emotionless.

Without thinking, Buttercup followed her sister's lead and plopped herself down in the chair beside her, folding her arms over her chest, waiting for the speech to begin.

Blossom closed her eyes, and she didn't open them for a long time. After what felt to Buttercup like a century, her sister's eyelids fluttered open and she took one last deep breath.

"The Professor received a fax about two months ago," the leader girl began slowly, weighing each word on her tongue to test its effect on Buttercup. The green girl just listened intently. "It was from one of his old colleagues. He'd said he'd discovered a possible cure for Alzheimer's Disease, and had made an enormous breakthrough in scientific technology. He needed to speak with the Professor about it immediately, so he left for Kentucky as soon as he'd heard the news. He ended up traveling all over the place with this guy for about two weeks, collecting other scientists that were scattered all over the country. When they finally settled back in, they decided to have their little 'get-together' right here in Townsville.

"Their little convention didn't last long, though. Once the rest of the men found out that the Professor's colleague's idea for curing Alzheimer's involved working with a very dangerous chemical, most of them took the first flight back to their states because they thought he was crazy. But the Professor didn't. He was intrigued by his friend's philosophy, and he wanted to know more about it. His colleague showed him his experiments, and the two of them began working on this project together, right in the Professor's lab. It wasn't long before that chemical started messing with both of their heads. That stupid guy didn't know when enough was enough. And the Professor was naïve enough to trust him for so long...

"Eventually, the effects of the chemical started to really show themselves. I did endless hours of research on the symptoms, hoping to find an answer to what this 'secret chemical' was. And unfortunately... I did."

Blossom took another deep breath, shaking this time, her breath strained and choked. She looked Buttercup in the eye, just a gleam of wet tears in her gaze.

"Do you remember that film we used to watch when we were small, 'Alice in Wonderland'?"

Buttercup nodded wordlessly. She remembered the film well, with the running rabbit and the talking cards. She'd always liked the Cheshire Cat best, herself.

Blossom nodded. "Well, there was a character they called 'The Mad Hatter', you remember."

Buttercup nodded again. "Yeah, I remember, what's that got to do with—"

"The reason The Mad Hatter was so crazy was because back in those days, people used to use a very dangerous chemical to make top hats. The men who made the hats were so exposed to the chemical, it made them insane. That chemical was called mercury. I'm sure you've heard of it."

The raven-haired girl squirmed uneasily in her chair. She could tell what was coming next.

"That was the chemical the Professor's colleague thought was the cure. Mercury. And although it normally takes years for its effects to kick in, the Professor and his colleague spent so much time down in that lab, doing who knows what with that stuff..."

The pink 'Puff broke off at the end of her sentence, a sob shaking her shoulders. She looked away, wiping her eyes with her fingers.

"I just wish there was something we could do..." she whispered.

It took the information a few moments to sink in to Buttercup's head. So the Professor was working with a dangerous chemical... and he'd gone crazy... all because this guy insisted on finding a cure for some lame disease?

"What happened to the other dude?" Buttercup asked.

Blossom shrugged. "We have no idea. He just disappeared one day."

Buttercup was silent for a long time. Blossom watched her, practically seeing the ill-used gears turn in her head. Buttercup stared into the floor, the image engraving itself into her head. Her sharp jade eyes did not blink but once. When her sister said nothing, Blossom spoke again, softly.

"I know this is probably really hard for you to believe... you always had the closest relationship with him."

The jade eyes finally blinked. They focused on the coral ones. An angry expression tore across Buttercup's face. "'Had'? What do you mean, 'had'? This disease, this... madness, it'll go away, won't it? He's not working with that mercury shit anymore, right? So the effects have to wear off... right?" Blossom looked away, but said nothing. Buttercup was frantic now. "Blossom? It will wear off, won't it?"

Another shaky breath from the pink 'Puff. "No, Buttercup. The effects are permanent."

Buttercup completely sunk into her chair now, resting her chin on her chest and her hands on her belly. She studied her palms as if she'd never seen them before in her life. Blossom didn't look at her. Buttercup couldn't understand why these stupid symptoms couldn't just go away. Why don't they wear off? They're only there because he'd worked with this mercury stuff, right? And he wasn't working with it anymore! They should disappear! It just wasn't fair. Simply unfair.

"So there's nothing at all we can do?" Buttercup asked quietly.

Blossom just shook her head solemnly. "I'm sorry..." was all she had to say. Apparently, it wasn't the best time.

"You're sorry?" Buttercup repeated loudly. "Why the fuck are you sorry? It's not your fault he was stupid and decided to fuck around with some damn mercury shit."

"I know that, Buttercup," her sister responded softly. "But I truly am sorry. There's really nothing we can do at this point. Trust me, I've done my fair share of crying about it. And you can bet Bubbles has, too."

"There's got to be something we can do. The doctors or somebody have to have something they can use to fix him! Anything! I thought these people were supposed to be smart. I thought _you _were supposed to be smart!" she exclaimed. She jumped up from her seat and began to pace back and forth. She could feel the tears burning at her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. Not here. Not now.

"Buttercup, you don't think I've tried? You don't think I've spent countless hours searching... hoping for some sort of relief that could help him? I've tried every single possible thing I could think of. Nothing worked. We've just got to face the facts. Even though may have the brain of a little baby, he's still our Professor, our dad, and we're still going to love him just as much as we always have."

Buttercup was silent again. She was twitching at the mouth, wanting to say a million things but none of which felt right. Her eyes burned but she quickly swiped at the tears. Blossom stood and put a comforting hand on her sister's shoulder.

"It's okay to cry, Buttercup. I know you want to be strong for Bubbles and I, but—"

"I'm not gonna cry!" Buttercup snapped. She shrugged off her sister's hand and scowled. "I'm not a sissy baby like you guys. Crying isn't gonna make him get better again, is it? Well, is it, Blossom?"

Blossom slowly shook her head. She cowered before her sister, who had truly snapped. She hated it when Buttercup got like this. It scared her.

"Exactly!" Buttercup exclaimed, throwing her arms into the air. "There's nothing we can fucking do about this, and—" Sudden realization rippled across her face, widening her eyes and dropping her jaw slightly. She stared at Blossom for a full minute before speaking again in a completely different tone. "Why the fuck didn't you tell me about this before?"

Blossom knew that was coming. She'd prepared an answer for that one, too. "Because, Buttercup, you were just starting to enjoy your career with the singing, and the concerts and all that. We didn't want to worry you too much. You were too happy."

"You didn't want to _worry_ me?!" the green 'Puff exploded. "Well, Jesus, you sure as fuck didn't worry me today, Blossom! Not at all! I'm perfectly fine just finding out that this has been going on for a fucking month behind my back!"

"Please stop screaming, now you really are making a scene." Blossom tried to calm her down, but she shrugged off her hands again.

"Damn right I'm making a scene, Blossom!" Buttercup exclaimed. "I'm fucking pissed! What did you expect me to fucking say? That everything's alright, that it's totally fine you didn't tell me about this before? Now how do you think I fucking feel? After I've been doing my own shit for the past month and he's been... _here?_"

Salty tears began to slide down Blossom's cheeks. "I'm so sorry, Buttercup, I should've told you, I should've listened to Bubbles—"

"Yeah, you fucking should have listened to her. Anything else you're hiding from me, Leader Girl? Bubbles is secretly dying of cancer? You're moving to London next week?"

"No, it's not like that, you know I wouldn't—"

"Do I know that, Blossom? Do I know you wouldn't keep anything from me? I'm not so sure."

Buttercup tore herself away from Blossom, who stood frozen in the doorway, tears cascading down her face like a salty waterfall. Buttercup stomped back into the room, the anger rising with every step she took. She made her way back to the corner, tearing away the screen with enough force to startle Bubbles, who had been talking quietly to the insane Professor. She had been pretending not to listen to her sisters' conversation, but it was kind of hard not to, given the volume. A pool of tears had accumulated in her eyes, but her cheeks were dry as she continued to speak to the Professor about the new pet store that had just opened on Main Street.

Buttercup listened for a moment, allowing herself to cool down with the slow rise and fall of her own chest. Her racing heart gradually slowed to its normal speed, and her eyes flickered to Bubbles.

"Can I have a minute alone with him, Bubs?" she asked gently, her temper subsided for at least the moment.

"Of course," her sister replied. "Blossom and I have got to get going, anyways. I signed us both up for a quilting class and it starts today. I didn't sign you up because, um, you know, I didn't think you would like—"

"Yeah, go ahead," Buttercup cut in flatly.

Bubbles blinked. "Are you sure you're alright getting back by yourself?"

"Yeah I'm fine... hey Bubs?"

"Yes?"

"...Is it cool if I, uh. Come home for tonight?"

Bubbles blinked. One lone tear trickled down her face and she smiled. "I thought you'd never ask."

She pulled her sister into a huge, famous Bubbles Hug and squeezed her waist firmly. Buttercup tensed up for a split second before giving in and patting Bubbles softly on the back.

"I'll make us all a nice dinner, and we can watch a film. Just like old times."

"Yeah..." Buttercup agreed quietly. Her eyes fell on the Professor, who was studying his arm intently. Buttercup sighed. "Just like old times."

As Bubbles left the room, Buttercup turned to her father, sitting down on the end of the bed.

"Hey, Professor," she said again, this time much more calm. His eyes focused on her now, watching her curiously. "Um. How are you?"

He didn't say anything. He just looked at her.

"Okay, I guess that was a stupid question. You're obviously not doing your best right now..." She ran her hand through her short black locks and blew out a long breath. "Jeez. I don't know what to even say right now. I... I just can't believe this. The girls didn't tell me about you, and I got so pissed at Blossom... I had no idea. If I would have known before, I... I would've stopped performing, I would have tried to do something to help..."

She stopped. Took a deep breath. She couldn't keep the tears from coming, now. She had only ever cried in front of the Professor one other time. That was when she'd found out Liam was gay. It had been so stupid, thinking about it now, the way she'd cried over a stupid boy. She'd been ashamed and humiliated. But he'd still hugged her and told her that everything was going to be alright. Now that she had a true reason to cry, he couldn't even do that.

Buttercup finally allowed the tears to slide down her face, and let the sobs fiercely shake her shoulders. And she really cried. She gripped those stupid polka dotted sheets between her fingers, clutching to them like her life depended on it. The Professor just watched her with awe and confusion, like a horror film. Buttercup curled up on the bed beside her father, taking hold of his arm as Bubbles had done. Except she gripped his arm as if it was the only thing holding her to reality. She felt that if she let go, he'd slip away, that _she _would fall away into the endless abyss of nothingness.

"I'm so sorry," she cried. "This isn't fair. It's just not fair, dammit!"

The Professor, still watching her with a curious look in his ebony eyes, reached his other hand over to her and softly petted her hair, like it was a kitten in his lap. Buttercup's breath caught in her throat and her shoulders stopped shaking for a split second. He was comforting her.

Another wave of sobs rippled through her, and she rested her head on the Professor's lap like she used to when she was little, when she would fall peacefully asleep in his lap as he sat stroking her hair and humming quietly to her. He wasn't humming now, but she could almost hear the song he used to hum. She began softly humming them to herself, allowing her tears to die down.

"_I'm just a little bit caught in the middle, life is a maze, and love is a riddle. I don't know where to go, can't do it alone, I've tried. And I don't know why_—"

Buttercup's cell phone rang, startling the both of them. She jumped to wipe her cheeks and clear her throat, answering the phone with the best fake voice she could muster.

"Hello?"

"Hey." It was Bubbles. "Just thought I'd let you know that visiting hours are up at six o'clock. We've got dinner ready for you at home, so... anytime you feel like coming back."

"Alright," Buttercup replied, fixing her shirt and continuing to wipe her eyes.

"Oh, and Buttercup?"

"Yeah?"

"Blossom's still a bit, um, upset over what was said earlier. I know you are, too, but it'd be nice if you... you know... apologized. Both of you."

Buttercup nodded. "Yeah, I'll see you in a little bit. Bye."

"Bye."

She hung up her cell phone and turned her attention back to the Professor. He had fallen asleep right in his position, his chin dropping to his chest and his arms hanging limp. Buttercup's lip quavered, and she bit it to keep from crying again. She wasn't going to let herself cry anymore. She was stronger than this. She took a deep breath and walked towards her sleeping father, quietly approaching the side of the bed. Leaning forward, she gently hugged the man, squeezing his shoulders as tightly as she dared not to wake him up. She pressed her lips to the Professor's temple.

"Goodbye, Daddy. I love you."

As she was walking out, she could have sworn she saw him shift in his sleep, his lips turning up into a small smile.

* * *

It was snowing by the time Buttercup reached her old home. Fucking middle of November, and it was snowing. That was Townsville for you. The green 'Puff hated flying in the snow. It wasn't that she got too cold, it was mostly the fact that the damn snowflakes stung her skin and eyes.

She shivered as she tromped up the stairs, shaking the snow out of her hair. Taking a deep breath, she raised her fist to the familiar red door, knocking twice before reconsidering her entry. Before she had a chance to just barge in herself, Blossom pulled the door open and her eyes lit up.

"Oh, Buttercup, you didn't have to knock—" she started to say. But as soon as Buttercup saw her elder sister, the tears welled up in her eyes again and she closed the gap between them in two strides, pulling Blossom warmly into her arms.

Blossom squeezed her right back, sighing into her shoulder, the tears forming at her eyes, too.

"I'm sorry, Bloss," Buttercup breathed into the long auburn locks.

"Me too," her sister replied.

They stood there for what felt like an eternity, until Bubbles walked in the room with oven mitts on her hands and a huge smile on her face.

"It's about time you got here!" the blonde exclaimed. "Dinner's getting cold without you, come on!"

The sisters broke apart and walked into the dining room, Blossom clutching Buttercup's hand for support. Bubbles smiled at the two as they entered, placing the last fork near her own plate. The three of them sat down after Bubbles brought out the delicious cheese casserole that she'd made, and they each looked around the table.

Blossom's hand still held firmly to Buttercup's, and she took Bubbles' petite palm into her own on the other side.

"I'm so glad we're all together," Blossom said.

"Me too," Bubbles agreed. "I've missed this."

Buttercup just stared into the casserole. She knew that if she tried saying anything, she might start crying again. And she was _not_ crying in front of her sisters today. There was no way in hell.

Blossom squeezed her sisters' hands and sighed. "Well, what are we waiting for?" she asked after a moment's peaceful silence. "Let's eat!"

Bubbles giggled and began to dish out the casserole. Buttercup nodded slowly and held out her dish to be served. She met Blossom's eyes as Bubbles spooned some green beans onto her plate, and she half-smiled.

This was almost just like old times. Almost, but not quite.

* * *

Buttercup couldn't sleep.

She tossed and turned in her old bed, staring at the blank walls and watching the dark shadows consume the empty corners of the room. A cricket played soft, echoing music just outside her window. The old grandfather clock chimed eleven, then midnight and one o'clock AM. Still she lay wide awake, punching her pillow at least twenty times to get comfortable.

Nothing worked. She was wide awake. She got out of bed to prepare herself a glass of water, and got the shivers as she tiptoed out of her room. Everything about this house was making her nostalgic. She dared not creak open the door to the Professor's bedroom as she passed it. She didn't even glance at the photos on the walls as she descended the stairs to the kitchen.

For once, she wished she was back at the Boys' house, sleeping in her unfamiliar golden room with the clock on the wall that was six minutes slow and the stain on the ceiling that looked just like the state of Texas if you turned your head just right. She wanted that more than anything. There was no way she was getting any sleep tonight.

As she floated back up the stairs, water glass in hand, she knew what she had to do. The grandfather clock pointed out one fifteen, and she cringed at the thought of what she was about to do.

Setting her water glass down on the bedside table, she crawled over the other side of the bed and felt on the floor for her jacket. Reaching into the pocket, she pulled out her cell phone and opened her contacts. She stared at the contact in her phone for a full five minutes and then she finally closed her eyes and quickly tapped the 'call' key before she could change her mind. She just prayed to god she got an answer.

* * *

If there's one thing he loved more than looking at hot girls, it was sleeping. A dangerous combo, he knew. But neither of those were available at one-thirty on a Saturday morning.

He heard his phone ring, nice and loud for the whole house to hear, and he grumbled agitatedly in his sleep as he rolled over and groggily checked the caller I.D. The light from his phone nearly blinded him, and he squinted very hard just in time to make out who was calling. He yawned as he sleepily tapped the 'answer' key and grumbled "hello".

"Butch?"

"It's fucking one in the morning, you better be calling me to bail your ass out of jail."

Buttercup hiccuped on the other end of the line. "I was wondering... would you do me a huge favour?"

"Oh god... you're not actually in jail, are you?"

"Will you come pick me up?"

Something about the urgency in her voice made him seriously consider this for a moment. She sounded the same way she'd sounded that night in the studio—scared, empty, and broken. Before he knew what he was doing, he was hopping out of his warm bed, pulling his pants on, and telling her he'd be there in ten minutes.

Not bothering to throw on anything but a beat up old leather jacket, Butch flew down the street on his still scratched-up motorcycle, not yet fully awake. The gears were spinning like crazy inside his head, trying to figure out just what was up with his counterpart's strange behaviour. He tiredly closed his eyes as he waited at a stoplight, trying to think. The icy wind ruffled his hair on his helmetless head and shook him right to the bone. He waited at the stoplight too long—by the time he'd opened his eyes again it was already turning yellow and he had to speed up to race through.

He found the 'Puff's house with ease, as he'd been sure he would. It wasn't that hard to find. It was pretty famous around town. Three characteristic round windows, a futuristic look, and that famous, one-of-a-kind bright red front door. He pulled in the driveway with another yawn, immediately noticing Buttercup standing with her arms folded on her own front porch. As she saw him approach, she closed the distance between herself and the bike in no time flat. He raised an eyebrow at her curiously, but other than that, he said nothing.

Buttercup simply got on the back of the motorcycle, squeezing her eyes shut and wrapping her slim arms tightly around his broad waist. He revved the engine, whipping out of the driveway and flying down the street. He considered a million things at that moment, feeling Buttercup shiver against his back, wondering what to do, what to say, but somehow he thought he knew exactly how to handle it.

He screeched around a few corners, eventually pulling into the parking lot of one of those all-night diners and shutting off the engine. Buttercup looked at him curiously but maintained her silence and made no argument as she followed him inside. He sat them down at a booth near the back, and told the tired-looking waitress to put in an order for two hot cocoas with extra marshmallows.

Then he turned to his counterpart, looking her dead in the eye and sending a familiar spark shooting down Buttercup's back as fiery jade met blazing emerald. For a long while they stared each other down like that, not speaking, Butch asking a billion questions with just the expression in his eyes, Buttercup holding back answers in her conservative gaze.

Finally, as their cocoas were placed on the table in front of them, Butch let out a long sigh and ran his fingers through his messy hair.

"Look, I don't know what kind of shit you got yourself into, but if the cops are after you I don't think I can help you."

"I'm not in trouble with the cops, idiot." She rolled her eyes, poking at the marshmallows in her mug.

He studied her face. "Then why did you—"

"My dad's in the loony bin." She said it so bluntly, so carelessly, tossing the statement out there like her play in a card game. Butch had no idea what to say to that. He blinked. She sipped her cocoa.

"Oh." What else was there to say? "That's where you've been?" She nodded yes.

There was another pained silence. Butch took his turn and licked the melting cream off the top of his cocoa. She watched with casual interest.

"I don't want your pity," she started. "I just want you to understand, that's all."

"I don't know if I can understand," he replied. "My dad's not crazy."

Buttercup knew that was meant to be a low blow, but she didn't even have the energy to fight back. She just sighed, lowering her gaze. Butch bit his lip and cleared his throat.

"Alright, look, my dad may not be in the nuthouse or anything like that, but I have been through some pretty fucked up shit in my life. My best advice to you is to suck it up and get the fuck over it. There's no use crying over it."

She stared at him. "I'm not crying."

"Bullshit," he snorted. "I can see the dried tears on your cheeks. I'm not fucking retarded."

"So what?" she snapped back at him. "At least I have a fucking heart. Unlike you, the spawn of Satan himself."

Butch was caught off guard with that one. What crawled up her ass and laid eggs?

"Why do you have to treat me like that?" he hissed at her. "All I ever am is nice to you, and you go and call me fucking devil names."

"You're never nice to me."

He almost laughed out loud. "Oh, so the whole 'picking you up at one in the morning and taking you out for cocoa' thing was just out of Satanic impulse?"

Shit. He had her there. She couldn't argue that. But she did, anyways.

"I guess you're right," she said harshly, "getting your one good deed in before you die seems like a great plan."

What the hell? Butch couldn't take this shit anymore. She was so goddamn bipolar. One second she was treating him like her best friend, the next they were old enemies again.

"Why the fuck do you keep doing this to me?" he moaned, leaning back in his seat and rubbing his face with his hands. "Why do you make me put up with this shit?"

She took it the wrong way. "Well, sorry I needed a fucking friend to have my back tonight. I won't let it happen again." She stood up from the table, stalking towards the exit of the diner with a furious huff. He cursed, threw a few dollars down on the table to pay for the cocoas and shot up after her. As she stepped outside into the cold air, he was right behind her. He rushed in front of her, blocking her path an stopping her in her tracks.

"Is that all I am to you?" he asked seriously. "Just a friend you use when you need stuff?"

She scowled. "No—"

"Well it sure as hell seems like it. All you ever do is bitch at me when you're upset, and then ask me to do shit for you, like I'm some sort of damn therapy session or some shit. I'm not your puppy dog, Buttercup, you can't just use me however you fucking want."

"I know that!" she shouted back at him, stomping her foot, crunching in the light snow beneath her.

"Well then why the fuck are you like this all the time?" he moaned. "One minute I think you like me, and the next minute you're treating me like fucking shit again! What the fuck is it, Buttercup? Because I'm not sure how much fucking longer I can put up with this!"

Butch stared her down, practically begging and pleading with her for an answer. His emerald eyes glistened as they unblinkingly stared into her very soul. Maybe it was his eyes or the cold that sent shivers down her spine. She blinked and looked away, watching the streetlight change to green on the corner of the street. Her arms were folded across her chest, and her ebony hair fluttered in the slight breeze. She untucked one of her hands to push it out of her face before she answered him.

"I... I do like you, Butch, I—"

"Do you? 'Cuz it sure as hell doesn't feel like it right now."

He couldn't tell anymore. This felt so stupid. He didn't fucking know why he'd even picked up the phone in the first place. All he knew was that the one time he decided to do a fucking good thing for someone he liked, he ended up getting screwed over. This was why he never did nice things.

"Can you just take me home?" Buttercup muttered. "Please?"

Well, that was a first. She'd never used 'please' on him before. But he wasn't going to crack like that. He had to know. He needed answers.

"No, I will not take you home until you answer my question," he demanded. She swallowed. "Do you really have feelings for me, or are you just using me for shit?"

Well, that escalated quickly, Buttercup thought. She hasn't even been thinking in that sense at all. Her eyes snapped to his out of grueling habit and she almost jumped at the proximity of his stare. His eyes held firm their hard, menacing look, but she detected a hint of hopefulness somewhere in that vast sea of emerald green.

Angry tears began to form in her eyes. Damn, for all the crying she'd been doing lately, she might as well have asked Bubbles to sign her up for that quilting class. She looked away, fiercely balling her fists at her sides. She severely wanted to punch something.

"God dammit, I don't know!" she finally cried out, turning away from him. "Sometimes I feel like I do, but then I feel like I fucking hate your guts!"

"What about right now?" he asked her. "What do you feel about me right this very second?"

He held his arms out to either side, as if shrugging or offering her a huge hug. She shook her head again and again, unable to answer the question.

"I don't know, I don't know how I feel, okay?"

"Well damn, Buttercup, what else can I possibly fucking do to help you make up your mind?"

"I don't fucking _know_!" she shouted at him. Now she really wanted to punch him. But at the same time, she wanted to—

Butch was nearly tearing his hair right out of his head. This girl was driving him insane. She sure as hell was _nothing_ like Rebecca. That was for fucking sure. She had so much more fire, so much more of a spark.

"Augh, _fuck_," he groaned. "I don't fucking know what..." He cursed again. He kicked a rock with the toe of his shoe, sending it flying off the tire of the only other car in the parking lot. He held his hands on his head, turning around in circles while his counterpart stood with her arms folded across her chest. He stopped spinning and looked at her, truly _looked_ at her, before completely giving in to his needs and throwing himself at her with all the built up force in his body.

Butch grabbed the sides of Buttercup's face with such force that she unfolded her arms and grasped his elbows for support. His lips came crashing down onto hers, he forced himself on her with such passion, such fire that had been bottled up inside him for weeks. Her hands moved from his elbows to his chest, which she quickly discovered was bare underneath the leather jacket.

She allowed him to take full advantage of her mouth, roaming her lips and tongue with his own. She melted into his arms, growing hot like butter melting into a sizzling frying pan. She realized that she'd wanted to kiss him for so long, that this was fulfilling a trillion fantasies that she didn't even know she'd had. Liam's words echoed in her head now, for what felt like the hundredth time: _You like Butch_. _Yes I do_, screamed the voice in her head in response. _God, do I ever._

As Butch finally broke the kiss for air, Buttercup felt lightheaded and dizzy. He continued to hold her face in his hands, rubbing his thumbs against her temples.

"I don't think I've ever wanted something as fucking badly as I want you," he said breathlessly. Her eyes sparkled and shone in the dim yellow light from the street lamp. He didn't give her time to respond, bringing his lips down onto hers again. He kissed her once more, with just as much fiery passion as the first. When at last they parted again for breath, he lowered his hands from her face and simply looked at her, searching her, again, for an answer.

It was all up to Buttercup now as they stood in the cold parking lot of the diner, the snow coming down in light, feathery confetti, catching in their raven hair and contrasting beautifully in the twin dark locks.

"I... I want you, too," Buttercup whispered into him, her voice becoming the wind and whistling through his ears like a twister.

Butch let out a disbelieving laugh, a chuckle almost, and rubbed his hands against Buttercup's back. She wasn't cold, no, she never got cold, but she shivered, pressing her bare arms against his warm chest. She smiled her signature half-smile and he laughed again.

"You're cold," he observed bluntly.

"Not really," she lied.

"Come on." He took her by the hand and led her back to his motorcycle, snatched her up by the waist and threw her onto it. He tossed his leg over to the other side of the bike and revved the engine. She caught his waist between her arms and wrapped them tightly around him, pulling herself close and pressing her cheek against his back.

Butch proudly revved his engine twice more before taking off down the street, the wind whipping their hair and the snow stinging their burning skin. He shouted his victorious excitement to the empty streets, probably waking up everyone in the neighborhood. But he didn't care. He'd finally accomplished the thing he'd been dying to accomplish for a long time. And he couldn't have been more happy about it.

* * *

_"I don't think I've ever wanted something as fucking badly as I want reviews." c;_


	15. Changes

**A/N: LAST CHAPTER. I'm really sorry it took so long. But it's finally done. FINALLY. I really hope you aren't disappointed with the ending. That is, if you're still even reading this. Dx Well, all's well that ends well I suppose. enjoy, and leave a review to let me know what you think! Thanks for sticking with me for so long! I love you all, and I'll see you very soon! :)**

**I do not own the Powerpuff Girls or Paramore. **

**xoxo -ml**

* * *

**Chapter Fifteen: Changes**

Buttercup wanted a change. She didn't care what it was, all she knew was that she was sick of living this bland, ordinary life she'd been living for as long as she could remember. She needed an adventure, a mission, something to keep her mind off of the past few weeks' occurrences. First her demo was rejected, then the news about her father, it was all too much to handle. What with those thoughts swirling around in her brain, it was really painful to add in the whole school factor. Aside from the fact that everyone recognized her at school and they all wanted to be her friend, she was buried chin-deep in bookwork and assignments that she could be certain she would never get done.

Blossom and Bubbles were beyond worried about her. Buttercup couldn't stop calling and asking how the Professor was doing, though they noticed she couldn't bring herself to visit on her own. They understood that it might be hard for her, but ever since that night, she avoided the Utonium house like it carried a disgusting disease. Blossom tried not to take offense from it, but they both missed their sister.

A few days after her visit to the Professor's, Buttercup was about ready to snap working on some sheet music for Eric and her composer, Mark. And as if to add insult to injury, Butch was "helping" (aka driving Buttercup up the wall). It had been only twenty minutes, and she had gotten absolutely nothing done because of his constant interruptions. And it wasn't even noon.

"You look tired."

Buttercup inwardly groaned and buried her head in her hands, her elbows supporting her as she leaned against the piano. This was hopeless.

"I do appreciate you being here but I really need to concentrate. So shut your trap or get the fuck out."

Butch's eyes widened and he slapped a hand over his mouth apologetically. Buttercup sighed, turning back to her sheet music. She plunked out a few notes on the piano, scowling at the awkwardness of the sound.

"That's an F sharp..." she muttered to herself, flipping another page in her music. She groaned out loud now, slamming a hand down on the keys, a straggled, ugly sound escaping the instrument. "This is hopeless. I'm never gonna learn these fucking notes."

Butch raised his eyebrows at her but said nothing. A huge yawn stretched his lips wide and he shut his eyes, covering his mouth with the back of his hand.

"I don't know how he expects me to learn this shit. And I've got a shit ton of homework to do, and I—"

"Then don't do it."

She shot him a fleeting look. "I can't just not—"

"I'm serious, think about it." He slammed his palm down onto her open binder of music, covering the measures with his fingers. He looked intently at her, reading the confusion in her eyes. "You could just tell my dad you don't want to do it. He can't make you do anything you don't want to do."

"But I have to, otherwise—"

"You don't have to do all this memorization shit to be a singer."

She gave him a look. "Of course I do, how else would I know how to sing it?"

He rolled his eyes. "I've heard you sing stuff before without even looking at a page of music. You're not Beethoven, you don't need to be a music scholar to be good. Trust me on this." His other hand met her shoulder and he rubbed the goosebumps away.

She met his eyes and sighed, realizing he was right. Her head swung around to meet his arm with an exasperated groan. Her hair cascaded in front of they face and he chuckled.

"Hey," he perked up suddenly. "Tell you what. We'll go out and do something. Anything you want, to get your mind off the work you have to do."

She scowled again. "Ugh, just because I ignore my work doesn't mean it doesn't exist. Blossom used to tell me that all the time."

He looked at her disbelievingly. "Since when do you listen to anything she says?"

Had he insulted Blossom in any other given circumstance, she would have laughed and agreed. But due to the recent turn in events, she simply raised her eyebrows at him and did not respond.

He ignored this reaction and reached up to tangle his fingers absentmindedly in her hair.

"What is it you want to do? Name anything, and we'll do it." He thought about that for a second, then added, "Well, okay, maybe not anything."

She didn't even blink before answering, "I want to dye my hair."

Of course, he hadn't been expecting this answer. He continued to run his hands through her short ebony locks solemnly, slightly disappointed that _this_ was what she wanted to do, of all things.

"I don't know, I like your hair how it is," he said slowly.

She pulled away from him and straightened out her hair from his hands. "No, just the ends." She took said portion of her hair and twiddled it between her fingers. "I've been wanting to do it for a while, but I never really got around to it."

"Well, if that's what you want to do... Are you sure?"

"Did I fucking stutter?" she snapped as she gathered her sheet music into the binder and threw it underneath the piano seat. "Let's go."

Following her lead, he shrugged and took her to do what she'd wanted to do for 'so long'.

* * *

"Buttercup... Buttercup? BC, wake up, there's someone here to see you."

She groaned and turned over in the familiar bed, wrapping an arm around her head and closing her mouth. A bit of drool had pooled onto the pillow as she'd slept, and she accidentally dropped her cheek right in the puddle. With a scowl, she wiped her mouth using the back of her hand and sat up to squint at whoever stood by the door. Embarrassed, she yanked the covers up to conceal her bare chest, hidden only by her favourite thin black bra.

The housemaid's face was flushed, whether it was because she'd scurried up a whole flight of stairs or that she'd just seen something she shouldn't have, Buttercup couldn't tell. The plump woman stood nervously in the doorway, studying the floor.

"Who is it?" Buttercup yawned, rubbing her eyes. The maid had zero time to respond, though, because just then a pair of pale, slim arms shoved her out of the way with surprising force and an ecstatic looking Bubbles rushed into the room, followed by an apologetic Blossom.

Buttercup barely caught a glimpse of the shine in her younger sister's sapphire eyes before she was nearly suffocated to death.

"Ohmygosh, Buttercup!" Bubbles cried into the girl's chest.

"What the hell, you guys?!" Buttercup scowled, choking under Bubbles' iron grip. "I'm not even wearing clothes!"

Blossom rolled her eyes and crossed the room to the window, where she tore open the golden blinds, allowing the room to be engulfed in bright, sparkling sunlight. "Oh, relax, drama queen. We're your sisters, not your audience."

"Buttercup, oh, Buttercup," Bubbles gurgled, tightening her grip around Buttercup's neck. "We've missed you like crazy! And since you haven't been visiting lately we thought maybe there was something wrong so we called this morning but we didn't get an answer, and we called Liam and the bar and—" she gasped. "Did you dye your hair?"

Blossom's smile dropped from her face and her eyes went wide. "Buttercup! You did dye your hair!"

Buttercup's hands flew defensively to the newly lime green tips of her hair and she shrugged. "Yeah, a little, but wait—you talked to Li?" Buttercup interjected, slipping out of Bubbles' grip and looking from sister to sister curiously. Bubbles giggled and shot a look to Blossom, who raised her eyebrows. Buttercup scowled again. "If you guys don't quit it with those stupid secret looks at each other, I swear I'll—"

But she was cut off by someone clearing their throat. Bubbles was the first to jerk her head to the doorway, the very same gleam in her eyes as before. Curiosity got the best of Buttercup and she followed her sister's gaze. Her breath caught in her throat and she gasped.

"Well, jeez, BC, I've been standing here in the doorway for at least five minutes..."

"Liam!" Buttercup half exclaimed, half sighed. She wanted to run to him, but decided against it considering she was dressed in only her underwear. She tugged the blanket closer to her chin and gaped at the newcomer.

"Long time, no see, Star Girl," he said with a laugh, using one of his many old nicknames he had for her. "I'm digging the hair, it really works for you."

"You... you came with them?" she stuttered, still not believing that he was here. "But... I thought you were in school, and—"

"Nah, I'm on break for Thanksgiving." He crossed the room to stand near Blossom, who gave him a warm smile. "I had just gotten home when your sisters called me this morning. You had me worried sick, BC."

Suddenly, Buttercup felt sick to her stomach. She pulled her knees to her chest under the covers and sighed, looking away from them. "I couldn't sleep in that house," she admitted softly to them. "It was too..." The sentence didn't finish itself, but she couldn't bring herself to say any more.

"Oh, Buttercup." Blossom made her way over to her sisters and pulled them both into a tight hug, Liam taking Buttercup's arm and holding her for support.

"I don't want to talk about it anymore," Buttercup said suddenly, shoving them all back. "I've been too sad lately to focus on anything and just when I started getting over it, you three came in here and dropped this depression bomb on me."

Bubbles' and Blossom's cheeks flushed and Liam cleared his throat. "Well, speaking of subject changes, I got my job back at the bar."

Buttercup blinked. "How? I thought Mr. Severini sold the place?"

"He did. We're under new management. And lucky for us, the new manager is a nice guy. Well, what we've heard about him anyways. We haven't exactly met him yet. But we should soon."

Buttercup was shocked into silence. This was fantastic. A million possibilities flashed in her mind as Butch's words from the night before echoed in her head: "_You don't need to be a music scholar to be good. Trust me on this."_

"Quit lying!" a whiny voice shouted from just outside the room, interrupting Buttercup's train of thought.

Another voice chimed in with its preceder, deeper and laughing. "I'm not, I swear, she's here, I saw her. Just look!"

With the last word of that sentence, Boomer was shoved into the room, Brick cackling behind him in the hallway. Boomer's face flushed almost as red as the maid's had, his eyes immediately locking with Bubbles' and not budging.

"Hey, Boomer!" Bubbles greeted him cheerily, a huge grin on her face.

The blonde boy hesitantly raised a friendly hand and smiled out of the corner of his mouth, still not looking away from her. Brick's laughter died down and he stepped into the room, too.

Buttercup glared daggers at the two of them, her face turning crimson as she tugged the blanket tighter around her barely clothed body.

"Hi, Brick!" Bubbles sang. He raised a hand in halfhearted response.

"What'd I tell ya, eh, Boom?" He nudged his brother with his elbow and chuckled again until he felt a hard glare against his face. His eyes shot up and he locked gazes with Blossom, who stood tapping her foot impatiently at the boys' entry.

"Can we help you?" she asked sassily.

Brick swallowed. "Nope, just stopping in to say hi, right Boomer?"

Boomer didn't respond. Brick nearly had to help drag his brother's jaw from the floor and close his mouth.

"Whoa, sick new hairdo, Buttercup," Brick said with a disbelieving laugh. Buttercup's only reply was a positively evil glare at the red-haired boy.

The awkward silence that followed was immediately broken by yet another intruder into the room.

"Who didn't invite me to the party?" Butch whined, shoving past his brothers and making his entrance clear. He was wearing nothing but a towel and he had a green toothbrush in his hand. His hair was sopping wet and uncombed, long and messy on his head. Buttercup's face closely resembled a tomato, Liam raised his eyebrows at Butch's bare chest, and Bubbles greeted Butch with as much zeal as she had Boomer and Brick.

Butch turned to Liam, seeing him standing in the corner, and grinned widely, "Liam, my man, good to see ya again!" He approached with a grin and clapped the boy on the back. Liam responded with a weak smile and a breathless sigh. He was staring in Buttercup's direction, but she refused to look at either of them.

"D'you guys like her hair?" Butch continued obliviously. "I picked out the colour myself. She wasn't sure if she wanted to do red or green, but I convinced her to stick with her traditional shade."

Buttercup was seething. She shook in her fetal position on her bed, seeing nothing but red all around her.

"Buttercup, are you oka—"

The green 'Puff exploded before Bubbles could finish.

"_HAS IT NOT OCCURRED TO YOU IDIOTS THAT I AM STILL IN MY FUCKING UNDERWEAR AND YOU ALL JUST DECIDED TO MAKE YOURSELVES AT HOME IN MY BEDROOM_?!"

A long silence met her interjection, and as she caught her breath Brick and Boomer exchanged a glance. Ditto Blossom and Bubbles. The two boys muttered something about being sorry and made to exit the room, but Butch's obnoxious laughter startled them into freezing.

"Hey, at least you've got underwear on!" the green 'Ruff chortled. "Come on, live a little! It's nothing none of us ain't seen before!"

Bubbles, Blossom and Liam flushed, and Buttercup crossed her eyes. One more stupid comment from any one of these idiots and she was gonna blow up. Too bad nobody got _that_ hint.

Butch laughed again. "Besides, I'm sure Boomer's still wishing your sister was the one in her underwear..."

That did it.

In the next second, Bubbles gasped and sank into a blushing heap on Buttercup's bed. Blossom gasped, too, and folded her arms sternly over her chest. Boomer looked a mixture between cross with Butch and embarrassed. Brick smacked Boomer. Liam covered his mouth to prevent a snicker from escaping. Butch clutched his stomach and laughed loudly.

And then Buttercup shot up out of bed and slapped Butch across the face, silencing him completely.

She stood on the floor just next to the bed, her hands glowing green with enraged power. Her glare was so frightening, Butch's (or any of the other boys') eyes didn't dare stray down to her black bra and lace panties that remained her only cover.

"_EVERYBODY GET OUT_!"

There is nothing scarier or more deadly than an embarrassed Buttercup fuming in her underwear. The lot followed her command, hastily shuffling out the door one by one, Butch rubbing at his hand mark-stained cheek. He turned to face her before he'd exited, a sorry look in his eyes (though Buttercup did notice the way he was trying his best not to glance downward in a certain direction...).

"But Butters, I was only—"

"_Out_!"

He complied without another word. Buttercup slammed the door behind them and sank to the bed with a heavy sigh. What in the bloody hell did she do to deserve this?

* * *

The more she looked at her new hairdo in the mirror, the more she loved it. The very same ebony colour that Butch claimed to love so much still remained from the root to about an inch before the tips. It wasn't until the very end did the deep raven locks ombré into a bright lime green that complimented her eyes. Perhaps Blossom didn't particularly approve of her new look, but frankly Buttercup couldn't care less. She loved the change, and it was different. A good kind of different.

When at last Buttercup was decent (yet still fuming, if you can believe it), having thrown on a loose, one-shouldered grey sweatshirt and a pair of black skinny jeans, she shuffled downstairs in her lime green socks. She ran a hand through her hair and sighed heavily, walking into the living room with her eyelids sagging.

"Good morning again, Sleeping Beauty!" Bubbles chirped, a bright smile on her face.

Buttercup tried her best not to notice the fact that her bubbly sister resembled a perfect, cheery ball of sunshine whereas she herself looked—and felt, for that matter—exactly like the spawn of the dead. She half scowled as she flopped down on the couch between her two sisters. Liam sat casually on the chase lounge across from them; Boomer likewise cross-legged on the floor, and the other two boys were nowhere to be seen.

"We're really sorry about earlier, Buttercup," Liam tried to say sincerely (though she wasn't stupid enough to let the snickers behind his voice go unnoticed). "We were just trying to cheer you up a little."

"By turning my bedroom into a gang-bang scene? Sounds just like something you'd do, Li."

Boomer laughed but Liam's expression didn't falter. He was used to receiving Buttercup's snotty attitude.

"We've been waiting for you to get up so we could show you and Butch your presents!" Bubbles squealed.

"Presents?" Buttercup knew this could not mean well.

"Well, your birthday gift, and our thank-you gift to Butch," explained Blossom. "We figured we owed it to him, anyways. After all the crap we made him put up with with you."

"What are you saying?" The middle sister accused, eyes narrowed.

"Nothing, come on, let's go see your presents now!" Bubbles hopped up from the couch with a laugh. "Boomer, you go get Butch and Brick!"

Boomer nodded and scampered quickly out of the room at Bubbles' command.

"If I didn't know any better, Bubs," Liam observed slowly, "I'd say you had yourself a puppy dog..."

The blonde simply smiled to herself and turned to leave the room.

* * *

Butch tried his best to ignore the fact that his brother's hand smelled like potato chips, or that his feet were killing him from standing all fucking day, or that he really wanted to talk to Buttercup but she refused to make eye contact with him since she'd slapped him what felt like so long ago that morning. He tried his best to ignore these things, but quite frankly it was getting on his fucking nerves and he just wished his brothers would tell him what the stupid surprise was already.

"Can you get your hand off my face now?" he muttered. Someone snickered behind him but Boomer tightened his grip on his brother's face.

"Hold on, like ten more steps."

Butch scowled but complied, mentally counting step after cautious step. He immediately stopped when he reached ten, his captor nearly bumping into him.

"Close enough," someone whispered. "Let them go."

Butch felt Boomer release his eyes. "Finally," he grumbled, shoving his brother completely off him. "Now what's—"

He stopped short. He was standing face-to-face with Buttercup, just outside the closed door to the garage. Her expression mirrored his for a split second before she looked away in confusion, her arms planted firmly on her hips.

"I'm not sure what you guys are trying to do, but if you're trying to hook us up or something it's not going to work," the green 'Puff growled. "I'm going back inside."

Before she could storm off, Bubbles rolled her eyes and caught her arm in her hands, gripping her tightly and preventing her from leaving.

"Not so fast," Blossom declared, using her favoured catch phrase. "We've got to show you something first."

Butch saw Buttercup's eyes roll, and he echoed her attitude by folding his arms over his chest.

"Get it over with, then, I've got stuff to do."

Brick snorted. "Yeah? Like what, masturbating?"

A fist nearly missed the red 'Ruff's cheek and Butch scowled at his failure.

"Just open it," Bubbles begged, "before they both start swinging."

Blossom did as she was instructed, tapping the correct buttons on the keypad to activate the garage door opener. The green counterparts watched curiously as the door slowly ascended before them, revealing a large, dark tarp. Bubbles did the honours of pulling it away, presenting the items beneath it with a flourish of her hands. Butch and Buttercup just stared in jaw-dropping awe at what stood before them.

Blossom, Bubbles and Boomer grinned from ear to ear at their siblings' expressions, and Brick just smirked.

"You fixed my bike!" Butch was first to exclaim, stepping forward and running his hand down the now smooth surface of his beloved motorcycle. "But how'd you do it so fast?"

Brick eyed his counterpart curiously. "Yeah, Bloss, how _did_ you fix it so fast?"

"A magician never reveals her secret," Blossom sang, swinging around the keys to Butch's bike on her finger. She tossed them to him and he caught them in his fist without tearing his eyes away from his beautiful like-new bike.

Buttercup hadn't said a word throughout all of this, her eyes locked on the other object in the garage.

"Is this... mine?" she managed to gasp out, reaching out an arm to touch it, but afraid it might not be real.

"No, we bought it for you to stare at, _of course it's yours_!" Bubbles exclaimed. "Do you like it?"

"I _love _it," Buttercup breathed, running her hands down the ebony smooth side of her very own motorcycle. "I can't wait to ride it."

It was then that Butch finished drooling over his own bike and turned to look at its partner in the garage. Buttercup's bike was pitch black and sleek, the perfect shape and size for her. His jaw dropped even further so that it was almost touching his collarbone and his eyes flickered from her bike to his.

Liam, ever the effervescent matchmaker, smiled at the counterparts' reactions and hummed, "I think Buttercup and Butch should take a ride together."

Of course, everyone immediately agreed with him, except for the two themselves. But with their eagerly persistent siblings, 'no' was not a viable option.

Before she knew it, Buttercup was thrown atop her own bike with little to no experience actually _driving_ a motorcycle before. Her anger at Butch quickly melted away and he shrugged at her. As soon as Bubbles had snapped her helmet on her head, she kicked down on the kickstand and took off down the driveway, Butch right on her tail.

Bubbles cheered and clapped after them, but the rest of them stood with rolling eyes and half-smiles on their faces as they watched their siblings leave.

* * *

The diner was called Sally's, and it became their regular spot (well, as regular as it could be called after three consecutive visits).

Butch bought them two hot cocoas with extra marshmallows, because even though it was the middle of winter, they had to take an adventure on their "new" bikes.

After the third nightly visit, Butch said he had something to show her.

He led the way down the rustic streets of Townsville, whipping past corner stores and shops until they found themselves on old familiar Main Street.

Buttercup very badly wanted to ask Butch what they were doing here, but for one thing her heart had begun to thump very loudly in her ears making it impossible to concentrate and for another thing, it would have been quite hard getting him to hear her from behind on their bikes. So she waited with baited breath as they passed the very, _very_ familiar area and finally they slowed to a stop in front of Buttercup's old workplace.

And she almost hyperventilated herself to death. If that was possible.

Taking off her helmet and shaking out her hair, she somehow managed to breathe the words, "What are we doing here?"

But her counterpart's only response was a giant grin as he hopped off his bike and offered her his hand. She reached out to take his hand, her mouth hanging slightly open as she grasped his fingers as if for dear life.

He pushed open the door and led her inside, though she wouldn't allow him to let go of her hand. They entered together, her eyes wide at the sight of the same old familiar bar she knew so well. She suddenly couldn't help the tears that clouded her eyes in a fog of nostalgia as she breathed in the familiar smell of the bar. He squeezed her hand and grinned even wider at the look in her eyes, blinking back the tears with heavy breathing.

"Butch, I don't understand," she finally choked out between trying her hardest not to cry and remembering to breathe normally.

"I know you've been through a lot lately," he said slowly, not exactly sure how she was going to take this, "and I've been kind of an asshole. And on top of that, I didn't get you anything for your birthday."

"You don't have to—"

"Just let me finish, okay?" He let go of her hand now and ran a hand through his hair with a long sigh. "So I felt bad for all that and I felt like I had to do something to make up for that, so, here we are..."

Her eyebrow raised. "You brought me here for my birthday?"

"Well, not exactly. They're under new management now, and I happen to know the owner."

"How does that make me feel better?"

"I kind of, well..."

He looked away and crossed his arms. She took his shoulders and forced him to look her in the eye.

"What?"

After taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes and mumbled, "I bought the bar."

Her arms dropped from his shoulders. "You... You _what_?"

He spoke with growing confidence now, the smirk creeping back onto his face. "I bought it. It's one of the benefits of having a millionaire dad. I can buy pretty much whatever I want."

Her eyes searched his with a mix of skepticism and excitement. "Why would you just buy Mic's?" She exhaled heavily, letting out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding. "I mean, what... what..." Her eyes went wide. It finally made sense. Her jaw dropped.

"Happy birthday, Buttercup." The smile was full on his face now as she fully realized what was going on.

"Is... Is this real life?" she gasped, looking around at the bar. "It's really mine?"

He nodded. With a smirk, he replied, "I know it's what you've always wanted, right?"

Her eyes met his again. No, this wasn't what she'd always wanted. Not exactly, anyways. In fact, she didn't even know that she'd always wanted something until it was hers. Well, almost hers.

"It's fantastic, Butch, I couldn't have asked for anything more."

She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him into a hug. He was only caught slightly off-guard and he hugged her back. She pulled away a fraction of an inch and looked into his eyes with a smile on her lips. She couldn't decide if she actually wanted to kiss him or not. She was just about to make her decision when one of the bar-goers approached her.

"Hey, Buttercup!" the young man said in a friendly tone. Buttercup quickly pulled away from Butch with flaming cheeks and faced the man.

"Oh, Griffin, hey."

"It's so good to see you! I hope you're here to treat us to a song."

"Oh, I don't think—" Her gaze flicked to Butch, who hit her on the arm encouragingly.

"Go for it," he said with a half-smile.

"But—"

"Seriously. Go. Now. Or I'll key your bike."

He winked. She scoffed disbelievingly and Griffin dragged her onto the stage.

She smiled meekly at the audience and searched for Butch's face in the crowd.

"Er, hi everyone," she said hesitantly. They watched her with expectant faces and she cleared her throat a few times. "Well, I guess since I've been forced up here without my usual guitarist, I'll sing something a cappella for you. I, um, I hope you like it."

As the crowd applauded her little speech, she locked eyes with Butch and he gave her the thumbs-up. She couldn't ever remember having this feeling before. It was like a bubbling in the pit of her stomach and she felt giddy and /happy/. She took a deep breath and began to sing, and although the entire crowd was listening to her, she felt as if she was singing directly to only one among them.

_I am finding out that maybe I was wrong_

_That I've fallen down and I can't do this alone..._

_Stay with me, this is what I need, please?_

Her eyes didn't leave Butch's as she sang, poured her heart out into the song and into his eyes.

_Sing us a song and we'll sing it back to you,_

_We could sing our own but what would it be without you?_

There was another encouraging cheer from a few random drunks in the crowd and Buttercup laughed, timing the beat in her head with no beat.

_This heart, it beats, beats for only you_

_My heart, my heart is yours_

_My heart is..._

The crowd cheered loudly and she released her breath. That familiar grin spread across her face and she thanked them, hopping down from the stage only to have Butch meet her in another hug.

"You rocked, like you always do," he told her honestly. "It took my breath away. _You_ take my breath away."

With the last sentence, he pulled her face into his hands and just stared at her, that smile on her face and his eyes glazing over. He loved this moment and he never wanted it to end.

"Butch..." she whispered just before his mouth met hers. Her hands found his chest and she gripped his shirt between her fingers as their mouths moved against each other in peaceful, balancing unison.

When at last they pulled away again for air, Buttercup looked around at the bar, at _her_ bar, and at her new hair and finally at Butch, _her_ Butch, who had been with her through all of this and had given her everything and why hadn't she noticed it until now?

Even with everything that had happened, with her recording (and, with a pang of guilt in her heart, she remembered, The Professor), she knew that she would get through it. Her sisters would support her and above all, Butch would, too. She knew that no matter what went on, this change was good. It felt good to know that even though some elements of her life were drastically changing, some of them would forever remain the same.

* * *

_I'll give you a pie if you review. _


End file.
